Superstars and Cannonballs
by Roseclaw
Summary: Percy is a Wild Mage and therefore the only one on the SideOLight to wield the Dominion Jewel. PM slash COMPLETED
1. Chapter I

All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. And all rights and other stuff to The Lioness Quartet and Wild Magic are copyrighted trademarks and property of Tamora Pierce and Random House. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* 

**Pairings**: Percy/Penny, eventually Percy/Marcus, Cedric/Oliver  
**Contents**: Angst, Slash, POV, Lemon (later on), Fluffy (sorta), Het  
**Spoilers**: Yup. Books 2 and up.   
**Summary**: Percy isn't the 'freak' he and everyone else claim him to be. That, I think, is the worse summary I've ever come up with.  
**Status**: Incomplete  
**A/N**: In here Oliver is a friend and Percy can be normal around him, or so is my skewed view. And I liked the idea of Percy as a Wild Mage too much that I butchered it. Ruthlessly. Also, this is unbeta-ed. And I didn't do Percy's personality justice, but I'm getting a handle on it. 

_*~* indicates time change   
_~*~ indicates scene change 

**WARNING**: This contains HET!! As in a boy kissing a girl! If that squicks you, please DON'T read this! There WILL be SLASH later on, but until then there is just HET. A guy and a girl TOGETHER. In THAT way! Consider yourself warned! 

Superstars and Cannonballs 

_The war had ended over sixteen months ago and he finally had a room all to his own. He gazed up at the painting in his bedroom. His oversized glasses slipped off his button nose; behind those glasses wide, strangely colored eyes blinked to take in the woman in the portrait; behind those eyes, the six-year-old mind reeled to comprehend her status. _

_She smiled down at him, her long, fiery locks wisped around her oval face and full armor. He noted that she was short, but not bulky: small. Therefore she couldn't be a relative; they were all tall. But what caught his eye were her eyes; they were violet. _

_"'T's yer name?' he asked shyly. _

_"Alanna," she introduced in a friendly tone. "What do they call you, little one?" _

_"'M not li'l," he protested with a small pout. "'M name's Percy." _

_"It's nice of you to introduce yourself," she bowed politely. "I've been watching you and your brothers for some time now." _

_"I watch 'em too," he said importantly, scrunching his nose to keep his glasses from falling off his face. _

_"I've seen you watch them," she nodded with a smile. "You work yourself into a tizzy trying to protect those twins." _

_"Somebody needs ta p'otect 'em!" he replied stubbornly. _

_"Yes, but who will protect them when it's you that needs the protecting?" She squatted down to look him in the eye. _

_"You 'ave p'etty eyes," he stated, awed, forgetting about the unsettling predicament she purposed. _

_"Thank you, most people don't like them because they're different," her smile faltered at the end of her confession. _

_"I like 'em!" he enthused. _

_"You have beautiful eyes too." _

_He scrunched his nose again, this time in distaste. "I don' like 'em." _

_"Why don't you like them?" _

_"Everybody pokes fun at 'em," he responded grudgingly, looking away from her. _

_"You don't have to believe everything that everybody tells you," she explained. "Some people are just there to frustrate you." _

_"Percy?!" His mother's voice sounded shrilly through the Burrow. _

_"F'ust'ate?" _

_"Percy! Dinner!" _

_"Make you mad." _

_"Ok, thanks, 'Lanna. See you later." He scurried off to eat with his family._

*~* 

"It's not fair," I sigh, collapsing onto my very solid, unyielding, dorm bed. It's horribly uncharacteristic of me, but no one's here, so my reputation won't tarnish. 

"What's not fair?" I bolt upright. Who? 

"Oh, hi, Oliver. How long have you been here?" 

"Just got here," he smiles, waltzing over to his bed – rock, both synonyms in our school. "So what's not fair?" He plops down onto his rock. 

We've been good mates since third year when he claimed I was a manic depressant, and he refused to leave me alone for an instant. Well, in order to prove him wrong, I was forced to converse with him… and that led to an odd sort of bond. 

So, to put it briefly, I bare my soul to him, hypothetically, and he does so to me. Hypothetically. That boy bares his soul to the entire school. Although, I sincerely doubt the entire school knows the deepest darkest of his secrets, however, neither do I. He just knows mine. 

It has never struck me as odd, just Oliver. Something in the way he carries himself, presents himself; his personality I guess is what I'm aiming for. 

That is what possesses me to respond heavy-heartedly. "Everything." 

"Really now?" Oliver shoots up an eyebrow. I taught him that. I also taught myself when I was five. I was the only one in my family able to do that until Bill figured it out and Charlie caught on. It then dominoed down: Fred, George, Ron, and, finally, Ginny. Nothing special anymore, but it was for a year. "I never knew you were going to give birth to a mountain troll… Who's the lucky father?" 

His odd sense of humor, however, he taught himself. 

"Marcus," I reply flippantly. 

"Hmm… I always knew he was a troll." 

It takes much effort on my part to keep from laughing. "That he is, that he is." 

"So, Perce, what's not fair?" Persistent bugger, isn't he? 

"You're not easily swayed, are you?" I turn my attention to the flagstone ceiling. 

"I don't know about that… I've known the twins for quite some time." I can hear his smirk. 

Fred. George. Oliver. Together. I frown. "That's a rather unpleasant mental image." 

"Not like that, pervert!" Oliver shouts, reaching out to lightly thump me on the head. I grin to myself; I can still rile him up, I haven't lost my touch over the summer. 

"Now. What isn't fair?" he presses. 

"You know that you're only this focused on quidditch and wheedling information out of me," I point out, running a hand through my hair. 

"And you should know after six years," he counters, stubbornly. 

"'Should' being the operative word." 

"You're impossible, Weasley!" He only uses my surname when he gets overly frustrated and doesn't know what else to say. 

"You're not the first to say so." And won't be the last. 

"So, what's not fair?" 

"Oliver!" I nearly shout in exasperation; he has such a one-track mind. 

"Percy!" Oliver imitates. 

"My eyes." That will give him something to think about. 

Oliver blinks before intelligently asking "Huh?" And there will be no thinking for Oliver – it requires too much thought. 

"You asked what wasn't fair. I answered 'my eyes'," I explain. 

"Your eyes," he repeats incredulously. 

"My eyes." I turn my attention from the ceiling to Oliver. 

"Care to expand?" No. I don't. 

"Not particularly." 

"But you will anyway!" Oliver prompts firmly. 

"No." 

"Yes." 

"No." 

"Yes." This is going nowhere. 

"Fine," I relent. An argument with Oliver is more tedious than getting him to pay attention in Divination class. Once we went on for an hour before he forgot what we were disagreeing about. 

"Yes!" Oliver enthuses, getting comfortable on his bed as if preparing for a long detailed story; he'll be disappointed. 

"Marcus was being daft and Snape defended him," I state in a bored tone. 

Oliver waits for more, but I won't supply it. 

"Well?" he asks after a few moments of silence. 

"Well what?" 

"Well, what did Flint do and how did Snape defend him?" 

"Marcus was attacking my eyes, verbally, and Snape kept me after class to 'clear things up for me'." 

"Your eyes got you in trouble?" Oliver blurts out, not believing a word I had spewed forth. "Your eyes are f - " 

"Oliver," I interject forcibly. "When was the last time you noticed my eye color?" 

Oliver mumbles something incoherent and flushes a bit. 

I brush it off. "My eyes are violet." They truly are, ever since I was small, ever since the war. 

"They're not, Percy. They're brown," Oliver defends softly. 

"Oliver, look into my eyes." I pause; that didn't sound right. I glare at Oliver as he smothers a snigger. "Seriously, look **at** my eyes." 

He shoves off his bed and kneels before me, gazing up at my eyes. My eyes are brown, yet they had strands of violet weaving through the iris from black to white. They weren't hazel, though the brown looks like it should belong in hazel eyes, but there was no green, just blue and violet. 

"They're brown," Oliver concludes in a whisper, mouth scant inches from mine. "Definitely brown – sepia, but brown." Amazing, Oliver knows that sepia is a shade of brown, more blackish than brown, but neutral nonetheless. And he is **way** too close for comfort; I've never been one for closeness. 

"Oliver?" I question, my uneasiness evident in my voice, at least to me. 

"Hmm?" he hums, moving closer. 

"Oliv - " The door slams open loudly and Oliver jerks away guiltily. 

"Excuse us!" George grins wickedly. 

"But we wanted to talk to Percy," Fred continues. I could kiss them for interrupting. Figuratively. 

"Yet, you're both obviously busy," George's grin grows impossibly wide. 

"So we'll be leaving now!" Fred concludes. They always speak that way; it's quite unsettling, but I think after the twelve years they've been able to speak, I've finally gotten used to it. 

"No, no!" Oliver denies quickly. "We're not busy, go ahead. I'll – I'll be on my way!" He zooms past the twins. 

"Congratulations, Percy ol' boy, you've succeeded in doing something over half the female population dreams of!" Fred claps me on the back, causing me to fight for breath, trying not to cough and sputter. 

Devil spawn. 

I won't bother to tell them the truth. To the twins, truth is denial and twists very easily around their fingers. 

"What do you two need?" I ask carefully. Trusting the twins unconditionally can lead to the downfall of entire civilizations. 

"We heard about Potions," Fred's grin now mirrors George's. 

"And we came to congratulate you," George picks up. 

"We knew you'd get in trouble sometime, 'tis a Weasley tradition," Fred winks. It really is a tradition in our family. Bill, even though he was the head boy, broke more than his fair share of rules. Charlie did too. The twins have lost countless points from our house, and Ron has, in his first year, broken many rules to help Harry fight You-Know-Who. Ginny, however, has just started her first year, and things look promising for the continuation of that tradition. I am the only different one, and the twins are determined to corrupt me. 

"Why must you constantly talk in phrases?" I sigh. My encounter with Snape is the last thing I would like to talk about with them. 

"Because it pisses people off to no end," George nods solemnly. 

"Dully noted," I dismiss. "Now, what do you want? And why must you constantly bug me about Oliver? For the last - " I pause, this won't be the last time; the twins have a long track record. "Ok, it probably won't be the last time: there is nothing between Oliver and me." 

"Sure, Perce, whatever you say," Fred drawls. 

"We want to know the juicy details of your class," George beams. 

"So spill!" 

"Oh, please," I roll my eyes in annoyance. "Snape was just being a Slytherin." 

"Did Percy just neglect to say - " I don't like where this is headed. 

"Yes, he didn't say 'Professor'," Fred crows triumphantly. 

"I have work to do, so if you two don't mind - " I point at the door. 

They grin at me with sparkling eyes, but, surprisingly head for the door. 

"I'm sure you do." 

"We'll tell Oliver to come back." That's why they complied. 

"We need to speak to him anyway…" 

The door closes behind them. 

I sigh and rub my eyes under my glasses. 

*~* 

_"Why is you dressed like ah boy?" He looked up at the portrait of his only friend. _

_"Because it's more comfortable that girl clothes," she replied slowly, then smiled. _

_"I t'ied on mum's clothes once. They we'en't comfy, though. It made the twins laugh." _

_"I bet it would," she commented dryly. _

_"What do you mean?" he asked, drawing his eyebrows together. _

_"Your brothers like to laugh, Mithros knows," she defended. _

_"Mith'os?" _

_"The god of war." _

_"Oh." _

_"Hey, Alanna? Do you think that I'll get into school like Bill and Cha'lie?" he asked suddenly. _

_"What brought that on?" _

_"I wanna go to school like 'em. I wanna learn magic. I don' wanna be a Squib," he declared. _

_"I'm sure you'll get in," she smiled fondly. _

*~* 

I settle down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast between Oliver and Lee. 

"So Weasley," Lee starts. He receives five yeses. "**Percy**," he clarifies, "the twins tell me that you were snogging Oliver the other day." Knowing them, I should have known this was bound to come up. 

"And you believed them?" I snap. 

"No," Lee smirks impishly. "I just wanted to see you blush." George, who is sitting next to Lee, slaps his hand victoriously. 

"It's nothing, Percy," Oliver reminds me, glowing a radiant shade of red. 

Fireworks of color burst in my mind. 

"Mail's here," I comment absentmindedly, changing the subject entirely. 

"How do you kn - " Fred, sitting across from Lee, is cut off as a newspaper lands on his head. "Oh." 

I smile inwardly. 

Hermes lands dignifiedly in front of me with a soft thud as her talons scrape the wooden table and presents a letter to me. 

"Hello, Hermes. Thank you." I offer her a link of sausage, bones not included. 

I open the letter cautiously; one never knows what might explode, sitting with the twins and Lee. It doesn't explode, though. Well, that is always a plus. 

Curious, I pull the letter all the way out. 

_Hufflepuff locker room after the match. Be there. _

Well, that cannot be any more perplexing. The match is between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, so it has nothing to do with Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or myself. 

"Getting love letters, I see." Fred leans over the table to peer at the brief note. 

I fold the paper quickly, muttering a charm. 

George manages to swipe the note eventually, reads it and frowns. 

"What is it, George?" Lee asks eagerly. 

"It's a note from a **girl**," he wrinkles his nose. "And it's so nauseatingly sweet it'll rot your teeth through your fingertips." 

"It can't be," Fred argues. 

"Yeah, it can," George counters. 

As the two squabble, I pet Hermes' feathers lightly as she gulps down my sausages. 

"Who sent this?" I whisper, my face in the feathers of her crown. 

_There_. 

I look across the Hall to where she indicated. 

"Oh? Really…" 

I remove my face from her feathers. Hermes gives me a measured stare before wolfing down my last link and flying off. 

*~* 

_"Bill tells me that you're a knight, Alanna, is that true?" He no longer had to look up at the picture; he could now look at the Lioness straight on. He did, however, have to look up to catch her eye. _

_"Yes, that's true," she nodded, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed. _

_"Aren't only boys supposed to be knights?" There it was. _

_"Yes," she replied shortly, but not tersely. _

_"Then – why?" _

_"Sometimes people have to hide who they truly are in order to get what they want out of life." _

*~* 

It is dark even though it is the middle of the day. Not midnight dark, more of a dawn-dark, like one had turned the lights off in a room with only one window. Which, essentially, this is. That is why I love the owlrey. I also enjoy the attention I receive from the owls. It's more than I ever get at home, not that my family is to blame. Every so often, I con mice off of Mrs. Norris and present them to the raptors. And best of all, I am away from human contact, yet not alone. 

"I thought I'd find you here." The voice shatters the owl-filled silence. 

"Hi Oliver," I resign. "Go say hello if you would like to." 

Oliver opens his mouth to make a retort when a ghost flies at him. 

The barn owl I sent him lands delicately on his shoulder, flexing her talons carefully. 

"He's - " Oliver questions as the owl nibbles at his ear. 

"She," I correct. "She says that she likes to watch you fly." 

"Really? I finally get a fan and she has feathers," he groans melodramatically. 

"Come here," I ask her. I feel awful for forgetting her name. 

Oliver takes a step forward before the owl takes flight. 

"You really need to make it clear just whom you want to listen to you," he remarks dryly. 

"You never listen to me anyway, so I didn't think there would be any confusion," I smile slightly as the owl lands on my bare wrist. 

"I'm wounded," Oliver feigns hurt. 

"Actually, I am," I wince as a talon slices into my wrist as she takes to the pews. 

"Oh, are you alright?" he asks, concerned. 

I bring the wound to my mouth and lick it clean. 

Vaguely I hear Oliver's gag of disgust. "That's gross!" He approaches me slowly. 

He's going to strike me. I'm wounded and he's going to attack me. 

"Let's get you to Madam Pomfrey…" 

He keeps coming toward me. 

I narrow my eyes and growl a warning low in my throat. 

"Whoa!" Oliver raises his hands where I can see them. A harmless gesture. 

"S – Sorry, Ol, I lost myself…" I cast my strange eyes down, focusing them on my sliced wrist and give it another lick for good measure. 

"Noticed," he says wryly, keeping his eyes glued to me. 

Oh, I'd forgotten: he came here for something. 

"W-What can I do you for?" I shake my head; that came out wrong. "That came out wrong: what can I do for you?" 

"That note this morning wasn't from Penny, was it?" Right to the point. 

"No." I run my unwounded hand through my hair, surprised at myself for being direct. 

"The twins are bound to break that charm you put on it," Oliver points out. 

"No, they won't." 

He raises both eyebrows as if to say that I'm underestimating to twins. But I'm not. 

"I switched the notes," I smile weakly. 

"So, spill," Oliver demands excitedly. 

"I'm going to meet someone." End of story. 

Oliver waits impatiently for me to continue. I don't. 

"Do I have to drag everything out of you?" he questions irritably. "Who?" 

"Someone." 

"Who?" 

"My secret." This is getting monotonous. 

"You can't keep secrets from your best friend! Who?" 

"Someone." Can't he just figure out that I don't want to 'spill'? 

"Who?" I need something to distract him. 

"Oliver, isn't it time for the match?" I ask innocently. 

"You can't distract me that easily, Weasley, I'm onto you," he says menacingly. 

A quaffle whizzes past the window. Oliver blinks and I smile fully. 

"Damn you for being right." He stalks from the owlrey. "I've got your number, Weasley, I've got it in for you!" 

"You're not the only one," I mutter to both the owls and myself. 

~*~ 

The locker room is dark when I arrive, but my hearing and acute sight tells me I'm not the first to arrive. And it is quite possible to have poor vision and still have keen eyesight. There are some with perfect vision that couldn't see a snitch if it was perched on their nose. Where as some with glasses can see a snitch on the opposite side of the pitch. It all depends on the person. 

"Hullo, Marcus, what do you want?" My annoyance is evident in my voice; I wanted to meet with Penny to study after the match. I need to see him. "Lumos." 

Marcus emerges from the gloom, the light from my wand casting strange shadows on his body. 

"How did you know?" he asks, obviously thrown off guard. 

"It doesn't matter, what do you want?" I want this over; this guy gives off weird vibes. 

"What I want?" he responds vaguely. 

"Yes, why you called me here." I refuse to let him play mind games. 

Marcus growls at the restatement of his question, which is actually my original question. "Look, you pansy Gryffindor, I - " 

"Then tell me why you summoned me and I'll go," I cut Marcus off boldly. I refuse to anger; that would play right into his hands. 

"Why you - " 

"Good bye, Marcus." I turn to leave, taking my light with me. 

"Weasley, wait!" he calls after me. 

"What?" 

"About your sister…" If he hurt her in anyway, prefect or not, I'll hex him. 

I'm about to yell before I catch myself. Instead I demand "What about my sister?!" 

"She's in danger; I thought you should know…" He's hesitant. If he were lying it would be smooth and sure; if he were telling the truth it would be smooth and sure. But Ginny is in trouble if he's correct. And he knows he has my attention. 

"First off: you're being tentative. You've never been so uncertain in all the time I've despised you." Strong words. I've never even come close to saying anything this harsh even to the twins. "Second: since when do you know and/or care about my sister being in possible danger?" My eyes are blazing in the artificial light. 

"I just - I don't fucking know!" he admits. 

Peachy. "You haven't given me any base to believe you." When in doubt, analyze. 

"I know I didn't – still don't – but you're going to have to take my word on this!" he implores. Marcus and pleading never mixed. Ever. The word of a Slytherin. An oxymoron. 

"Are you begging me?" That is a frightening notion. 

"Yes!" he hisses. 

I regard him suspiciously. "What are you playing at?" 

"Nothing!" I refuse to believe that for a moment. 

"Marcus?" I frown. "Are you doing me a favor?" 

"No – Yes, yes I am," he finally decides. 

"What are you after?" I ask warily. 

"Nothing." I don't believe that either. 

"It's not suiting for you to do something and ask for nothing in return." The message is still there, just subtler: he's a Slytherin through and through. 

"It's – nothing. Your sister is in danger, but that's it!" 

Marcus takes off. 

"Wonderful," I sigh. I'm in his debt, if he is right about Ginny. Just what I need. 

~*~ 

"Where the hell were you?" Oliver screeches. "Penny and I were looking for you, but you completely disappeared!" 

"Out," is my clipped response. Oliver is the last person I want to face after my disturbing encounter with Marcus. No, actually, Penny holds that place. 

"I noticed." 

"You would." So very Oliver. 

"What are you implying?" 

I'm forced to stifle my grin. 

"Well?" he presses. 

"It's nothing, Oliver," I shake my head. 

"Nothing never got you this shook up," he retorts plaintively. Since when has he studied me that closely? 

"Wheedle," I snort. 

"You know it," he grins. 

"Marcus." 

"Troll boy?! What did he do to you?! I'll pound his face in!" He demonstrates by bashing his fists together. 

"Oliver, calm down," I sooth. "He didn't do anything." Yet. 

"Then what did he do?" he asks as evenly as he can at the time. Now would be the best time to throw in something he would never suspect. 

"Spilt his guts," I state simply. 

"What?!" he sputters. 

"Spilt his - " 

"I heard you, but – what?!" Oliver repeats in sheer disbelief. 

"I don't think you want me to go into the torrid details," I cast offhandedly. I had originally intended to say 'sordid', but torrid sounds more revolting. 

Oliver pulls a face. 

"Glad you approve." 

*~* 

_"I scared mum today, 'Lanna," he confided. "I didn't know what I was doing. I swore that to her, that I didn't mean it! But she didn't believe me!" _

_"What did you do?" she asked, brushing her bronzed hair out of her amethyst eyes. _

_"I brought a dragon home…" he flushed in embarrassment. _

_She raised a delicate eyebrow. _

_"Mum says I brought it home, but I was just talking to it! It followed me! But mum wouldn't believe me!" he continued woefully. _

_"You were talking to a dragon?" she asked, intrigued. _

_"Yeah. Charlie thought it was ace, but mum had cats!" he giggled. _

_"What were you talking to the dragon about?" _

_"About what it's like being a dragon," he nodded. _

_"So what is it like being a dragon?" _

_"Very green." _

_"Green?" _

_"That's what it felt like in my mind… He also said that he saw in green," he explained. _

_"Goddess," she exclaimed softly. _

*~* 

I have been watching Marcus for the week since we met, curious as to what would drive him to confront a Gryffindor, let alone the Gryffindor prefect. Marcus hasn't changed his behavior in the least. Not that I had expected him to. He still picks on anyone and everyone smaller than him (the majority of the school). He still sneers in all of his classes. He still plays dirty during quidditch scrimmages. Nothing betrays that he ran scared when talking to the Gryffindor prefect or that he had given me classified information. 

"I don't understand it," I admit in Potions. 

"What? The Great Percy Weasley hath admitted to not understanding something?" Oliver sounds amused. He looks up from his cauldron after throwing three scarab wings into the mix. 

"Marcus is the same as before." My ears turn red, realizing how stupid I sound. 

"What do you expect? Him to run through the grounds picking daisies and wearing them in his hair?" Only Oliver could create that image. 

"No, although, that would be interesting… No, I just want to understand what makes him tick." 

"I'm going to forget I heard that – Pass the snake's blood." 

I hand him the phial of brick liquid, refraining from sticking out my tongue. "I'm just interested in the human mind, you know, psychology." 

"Just psycho and he's not human," Oliver taunts. 

"Seriously, I do want to know what he was alluding to," I mutter. 

"The world may never know," he smiles, pouring the blood into the mix. 

"Will you stop your stupid Muggle sayings, Wood, and get back to work?" Snape barks. Of course Oliver is not even remotely Muggle, but I'm not about to argue; I have no idea what Snape is talking about either. 

"Yes'ir!" Oliver mock-salutes, a goofy grin on his face. 

"Don't push me into taking points," he warns, glaring. 

"Yes, sir," I clamp my hand over Oliver's mouth. "He promises he won't do it again." 

Snape eyes me skeptically, but leaves us. 

"Oliver, can't you control your tongue?" I reprimand. 

"Yes'ir!" he mocks again. 

"Oliver!" 

~*~ 

At dinner Oliver, the twins, and Lee are talking about their upcoming match against Ravenclaw, leaving me out of the loop. So I go to sit with my sister. 

"Hello, Ginny," I greet politely. 

"Percy," she mutters bitterly. 

"Are you feeling ok? You look pale," I ask, concerned, remembering Marcus' words. 

"I'm fine," she snaps back. 

"Ginny?!" Ron turns into the conversation, appalled. 

"What?" she growls back. 

"Are you mad, woman?!" he shouts. "Harry, help me on this one." 

Harry shakes his head. "Don't get me involved in family squabbles." 

"Harry!" he whines. This can lead to no good. 

"Ron, it's fine," I interject. "I'm sure that Ginny is just about - " 

"If she snaps again, I won't help her with him!" Ron declares, jabbing Harry in the ribs. He can be rather dense at times. 

"RON!" Ginny screeches, mortified. 

"What?" Ron looks confused as Ginny stomps past him. 

I sigh, get up, and leave to attempt to undo Ron's damage. 

~*~ 

I finally catch up with Ginny right before she slams the door to her dorm. I insert my hand in the door before it can close and lock, pulling it out and nursing it once the door bounces back. 

"Ginny?" I say, somewhat strained as I shake the pain from my hand. 

"P-Percy?" Ginny whirls around to see me in the doorway. 

"Yeah," I whisper. "Ginny, come here please." 

She frowns at me in incomprehension. 

"I'm not allowed in the girls' dormitory," I blush, unable to fend it off. 

"Oh!" she realizes, blushing as well, before joining me down in the abandoned common room. 

"Ginny, what's wrong?" I prod gently. 

"I think I'm going mad," she whispers sadly. 

"Mad?" I repeat, alarmed. 

"I'm acting so mean to everybody and I don't know why," she sobs. No, anything but tears. 

"It's ok, lovely," I wrap my arms around her small frame. She needs to eat more, not that I should talk. 

"No, it's not!" she wails hysterically into my robes. "It's not and it never will be!" 

"Shh, Gin, shh." I rub reassuring circles on her back as she bawls. She could use something to hold, not to be held by. After all, who would be caught dead in the arms of Percy Weasley? 

_Pounce helps._

"Come here," I whisper. 

She's a pretty thing, the cat that volunteers, caramel in color and ruby in mind, just what Ginny needs. 

"Percy!" she gasps. 

"Her name's Pounce," I whisper into Ginny's hair. "She'll keep you company tonight." 

"Thank you," she responds thickly. 

"Ginny? People will be returning from dinner soon, so if you would like some more solitude, I suggest that you head up to your room – or" I add hastily after seeing her crestfallen expression, "I could get you a nice bath in the prefects' bathroom?" 

"No, thanks, Perce, I- I'll head up to bed." She pushes off me, scoops up Pounce, and slowly treks up stairs. 

"This isn't good," I mutter to myself, raking the hair out of my eyes. 

"Weasley?" 

!!!! 

Marcus. 

"How did you get in here? What do you want? What did you hear?" I demand sharply. Apparently rules mean nothing. And neither does privacy. 

"Don't you get right to the point," he sneers. 

Oliver steps out of the shadows, pushing at Marcus. "Caught this git spying on you." Does anyone believe in private conversations anymore? 

"Oliver! You heard too - " I snap my mouth shut before the admission can slip. "What is it, Marcus?" 

"It's too late, isn't it?" Marcus answers vaguely, eyes shifting to the stairs. 

"Too late for what?" I don't like guessing games. 

"To save your sister," he replies lazily. 

Oliver growls. 

"To save her from what?" I grit. Nobody hurts my sister. 

"The Riddle…" Marcus turns on his heel and runs out of the common room. 

"Perce?" Oliver prods gently. 

"Not now, Oliver, not now," I grind out before storming after Marcus. 

*~* 

_"Alanna! Alanna! Guess what!" He ran into his room waving a piece of paper wildly. "I got in! I did it, Alanna!" _

_"I'm proud of you." Her smile shone brightly. _

_"I thought I was going to be a Squib," he sighed in relief. "You do magic too, right?" He turned the conversation to her to carry. _

_"Yes, I possess the Gift," she confirmed. _

_"The Gift?" _

_"My version of magic… It's more like a version of magic, not as universal as your magic. Everyone has their own version of the Gift, and then there are those with no Gift at all, like a 'Muggle' or a Squib'. For example, I have the Gift: the power to heal people." _

_"Can you heal animals?" _

_"No, that's for people with Wild Magic." _

_"Wild Magic?" _

_"An affiliation with animals; a common bonding magic." _

_"Do you think I've got that type of magic?" he asked wistfully. _

_"We'll just have to see, won't we?" she grinned knowingly. _

*~* 

I glower at the empty hallway. No Marcus. 

"Marcus!" I growl under my breath. "Where did you go?" 

Something furry and small runs over my foot. I jump impulsively, kicking an unfortunate rat across the hall. 

"Oh!" I exclaim, "I'm sorry!" 

The rat wrinkles its' – his – nose at me before continuing on his way. 

"Marcus, where are you?" 

"I didn't know you wanted me that bad?" he whispers huskily in my ear. 

I shiver despite myself, but manage to compose myself. 

"Well, you seemed so determined to find me, now that you have you don't know what to say?" he taunts. 

"Don't mock me," I grit. "Or I'll - " 

"Or you'll what? Take points from my house, prefect?" Marcus scoffs. 

Knowing I won't be able to keep my tongue in check if I open my mouth, I opt for glaring. 

"I guess I'm on my way…" You're not getting out of this that easily. 

"Marcus, wait. Tell me about my sister." 

"What about her?" 

"What's wrong?" I study my feet. This cannot be anymore embarrassing. 

"The Dark Lord has returned," he supplies plainly. 

Dear Merlin. "What does that have to do with my sister?" I say delicately, choosing my words even more carefully than before. 

"Malfoy is playing games and your sister has been caught in the crossfire." 

"What do you mean?" I demand. He always plays games with me, ever since first year. It always leaves me feeling drained and worthless. I hate that feeling. 

"I mean your sister has been inadvertently targeted. In Potter's place," he replies tiredly. Why tell me? 

"Why are you volunteering this information?" I ask suspiciously. 

"Who said anything about volunteering?" he raises his dark eyebrows. 

"How Slytherin." He thinks he's clever. Ginny, don't ever say I never do anything for you. 

"Protective of her, aren't you?" he leers hideously, as if he can read my mind. I hope that never happens. 

"Leave her alone!" 

"It's too late, you know," he says mildly. 

I tense up immediately. Ginny… 

"But I can help," Marcus pauses dramatically. "For a price." 

~*~ 

"Professor Dumbledore, sir?" I ask as Professor McGonagall ushers me into the Headmaster's office. "Professor McGonagall says that you wish to speak with me?" 

"That is correct, Mr. Weasley." I don't quite trust the jovial gleam in his eyes. "Please sit down." He offers me a chair and a plate of baked goods. "Scone?" 

"No, thank you," I decline politely. 

"I'm sure that you would like for me to get right to the point so that you can continue with your schoolwork." 

"Yes, sir," I respond with more sureness than I feel. I turn to McGonagall, silently questioning her. She shakes her head. 

"Mr. Weasley, firstly, are you aware of a priceless stone, the Dominion Jewel?" 

Of course I am, anyone who pays attention in Professor Binns' class is. 

"Yes, sir," I nod carefully. "It is bound to a ruler, which in turn, binds him to his lands. He is able to control, with the help of the Jewel, everything living and nonliving in his land. 

"It disappeared hundreds of years ago, around the Himalayan Mountains, after the reign of King Louis I the Pious of Aquitaine. The Nepalese, Bhutanese, and Tibetans protecting it were killed and the jewel was presumed to be destroyed." 

"Very good, Mr. Weasley. I am positive that you will do well on your NEWT's." 

"Professor, sir?" I question Professor Dumbledore, although looking at Professor McGonagall. 

"Now that you have demonstrated your knowledge of history, how is your knowledge of folklore?" Professor Dumbledore steeples his fingers as he looks at me expectantly. 

I quickly dismiss the hollow feeling growing in my stomach and wait patiently for the Headmaster to challenge me. 

"You are familiar with the animagus transformation, no?" I nod mutely. "Then there is no need to explain the whys and why nots. However, are you familiar with the mythology that backs it up?" 

I glance at Professor McGonagall again, who stonily avoided my eyes. 

"About the origin of animagi?" I ask timidly. 

"Yes!" Professor Dumbledore smiles richly. "How much do you know?" 

"Only a little," I blush. I'm not about to tell the Headmaster I haven't studied it because I want to be normal. That I don't want to be shunned and outcast even more. 

Professor Dumbledore looks overjoyed with the confession; it gives him a chance to explain everything as well as get me to admit not knowing something. 

"Well, Mr. Weasley," he launches into his tale. "Going back thousands of years ago, a little before I was born, select wizards and witches shared a bond with a certain group of animals. They realized that their minds were linked and, with concentration and practice, they could actually become one with their beast. Animagi. 

"They set forth and multiplied. And after generation upon generation, the link faded away but the animagus transformation did not. There are, however, a limited number of witches and wizards left in the world, seventeen to my knowledge, four in the whole of Europe." 

He's going to name names... I'm half terrified. No, more than half. 

"Those people are - " The world goes by painfully slow. "Minerva McGonagall, Thomas Riddle - " I've read that name somewhere " - Charles Weasley, and yourself." 

Charlie? Professor McGonagall? _Charlie_?! 

I whirl back and forth between the two professors, my eyes comically wide. Yes, I was right in telling Harry that Professor Dumbledore is mad. 

"Maybe you should have gone a bit slower, Albus," Professor McGonagall chides, speaking for the first time. 

"Maybe, Minerva, but Mr. Weasley was becoming aggravated with my storytelling." There is that smile again. 

"But sir," I find my voice again. "Charlie didn't act differently, he didn't – he didn't tell me," I finish sullenly, feeling more than betrayed. 

"No question about your condition, just about your brother?" Professor Dumbledore raises his snowy eyebrows, in not-quite-surprise. 

"I always knew I was a freak, I just didn't know that my brother, who constantly laughed **at** me, is just the same as I am," my voice oozes disdain. 

I just admitted that? In hysterics, no less. Dear Merlin, I must be the one who's mad. 

"Mr. Weasley, there is no need to get upset," McGonagall casts a 'do something' look at Professor Dumbledore. 

"Oh dear," he frowns, supplying the help McGonagall had asked for. "This has not gone as well as I had hoped." He turns to me. "Mr. Weasley, I have asked you here in regards to your schedule. I am asking Professor McGonagall here to tutor you privately to help you train yourself, to help you control your mind." 

Seeing no room for argument, I nod, not meeting either professors' eyes. 

~*~*~ 

TBC, if wanted. 

And just a side note, the payment Marcus wants isn't sexual. K? 


	2. Chapter II

All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. And all rights and other stuff to The Lioness Quartet and Wild Magic are copyrighted trademarks and property of Tamora Pierce and Random House. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* And the title was borrowed from a Savage Garden song, The Animal Song, so that belongs to them and the same disc applies. 

**Pairings**: Percy/Penny, eventually Percy/Marcus, Cedric/Oliver  
**Contents**: Angst, Slash, POV, Lemon (later on), Fluffy (sorta), Het  
**Spoilers**: Yup. Books 2 and up. 

**Summary**: Percy isn't the 'freak' he and everyone else claim him to be. That, I think, is the worse summary I've ever come up with.  
**Status**: Incomplete  
**A/N**: In here Oliver is a friend and Percy can be normal around him, or so is my skewed view. And I liked the idea of Percy as a Wild Mage too much that I butchered it. Ruthlessly. Also, this is unbeta-ed. Was originally Percy Weasley and the Dominion Jewel. 

_*~* indicates time change _

~*~ indicates scene change 

Superstars and Cannonballs 

I storm into my dormitory disturbing Oliver's studying. I jerk open a drawer in my nightstand, yanking out a blank scroll, quill, and a bottle of ink. 

"Perce?" he asks, hesitantly. I don't think he has ever seen me this angry before. Good for him. A learning experience: don't come near me when I'm angry. 

"Not now, Oliver," I snap. "Give me a couple minutes." Maybe by then I'll have regained my calm. Maybe.

"O-Ok…" 

Stabbing the ink with my quill, I begin a terse letter. 

_~Charlie~ _

_How could you not tell me? How could you live with yourself allowing them to attack me, ridicule me, while you emerged unscathed? I cannot stand backstabbers. I thought I understood you more than anyone else in our family, I thought I trusted you, and then I discover this. _

_Enough with the hysteric rhetorics. Professor Dumbledore has informed me of our… situation with animals. I used to think that it took great pride and bravery to reject a career in quidditch to go off and live with dragons. Now I realize it only took cowardice and an inescapable destiny. You couldn't avoid hearing voices. Having everyone think you belonged in St. Mungo's. Having your elder, respected brother let them laugh as he laughed along with them. _

_Charlie, why didn't you at least tell me that I wasn't a freak? That it was ok to be the way I am, we are. That I was not some sideshow. That you are the same. _

_Just be glad this isn't a howler. The only reason it's not is because it would unsettle the dragons. _

_~P~ _

I reread what I have written. This should show him exactly how I feel. Maybe even make him guilty.

I blow the ink dry before rolling up the scroll and running out of my room, intent on getting to the olwrey. 

However, I have overlooked one minor detail: Oliver, who is now preventing me from leaving the boys' dorm. 

"Out of my way, Oliver." I crush the scroll in my fist. 

"No," he states curtly. "You're angry – God knows what's gotten you **this** uninhibited – and you're obviously not thinking straight." I'm sure he is in utter disbelief that I am capable of this amount of emotion. Percy: always thinking with a level head. Always. "If you mail that now, you'll regret it. Isn't that what you kept telling me? 'Oliver, don't worry about it, put it past you. If you don't do something stupid then you won't be able to regret it.' You told me that after every Slytherin match. You - " 

"This isn't about quidditch, Oliver. This is about deception and betrayal." Doesn't he see? Doesn't he know? 

"Percy, if you're still upset after the next few days, then you can mail it. But I guarantee that when you read that letter again, you'll wonder who the hell wrote that and how could he have been so foolish." 

Foolish? 

"Get out of my way, Oliver. I don't have ti - " 

"You're not going to win, Perce. It's my turn to win; it's my turn to keep a level head." 

If that's the way he plays it… 

"Fine." I turn and slam the scroll into the drawer. 

"That's better," he sighs thankfully. 

I'll go back later tonight. 

*~* 

_"Alanna," he sniffled. "They're doing it again." _

_"Percy, you're old enough now to stand up for yourself," she explained. _

_"How can I stand up for myself when I don't even know why?" he asked desperately. _

_"Little one," she shook her head. "You'll be going to a new school soon, you can make new friends and start all over again. But, you still are who you are and nothing will change that." _

_"Alanna!" he cried. "That doesn't make any sense! How can I make friends if they know what I do? You've seen what my brothers do." _

_"I know what you do," she spoke confidently. He found himself wishing for the same confidence. "Am I not a friend?" _

_"You don't have a choice, though," he blurted. "You have to stay put." _

_"So do your brothers and sister," she retorted calmly. "But they are not what you consider friends, are they?" _

_"N-no." _

_"There you go, then."_

*~* 

Job done.

I sent Hermes out with the letter for Charlie. He should receive it by tonight.

The portrait hole slides closed behind me as I return to the common room, leaving me face to face with a very stern Oliver. I woke him up. I'll have to be quieter next time I… sneak out… Merlin's balls, I broke the rules!

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"I knew you would sneak out," Oliver says coldly.

I sniff at the air. Then why did you stop me earlier? Wanted to see a prefect break the rules? I brush past him.

"Who was the letter to?" Oliver continues, following me. Of course he's following me, does he not live in the same room?

If it will get you off my back… "Charlie," I snort non-communicatively not turning to Oliver.

"Charlie?" Oliver repeats, stunned.

Go away.

"It's nothing!" I hiss over my shoulder.

"Nothing as in Flint-nothing?"

Stop.

"No, nothing as in Charlie-nothing," I sneer sardonically.

"Percy, please," Oliver begs, trotting to keep up with my long strides. Benefits of being tall. "I'm a friend, not an enemy, not Charlie. You can tell me what's wrong!"

I whirl around and lock onto his dark eyes. Liquid brown. We stand like that, seeing just who will back down first.

"What the hell - ?" George? There was a thud as two other bodies, presumably, run into him.

"What's the commotion?" Lee grumbles.

"Lover's tiff?" Fred offers. Oliver and I are not involved! I scream in my mind. Penny's my girlfriend!

I turn to unleash hell upon my brothers and their friend, ripping my eyes from Oliver's.

"What else would it be this early in the morning?" Lee bonks Fred on the head.

"Gees, Fred, it's not like Percy could be upset about anything else," George feigns exasperation. "Just keeping up on his studies and Oliver got pissed that the book was getting more attention than him."

"Oh yeah," Fred frowns. "I'd forgotten that Percy doesn't have emotions." How dare he! My nostrils flare. "No wonder the whole school hates him."

That's not true! It's not! I have friends! I have a girlfriend. There's Penny and there's Oliver and there's Alanna. And that's it.

They must hate me then.

Oliver chokes down an infuriated gasp as I flee the room.

From my own room I can hear the four of them still talking – arguing.

"I think that was a bit far, Fred," Lee states seriously.

"It's true, though," Fred counters lightly.

"That's it, show's over," Oliver growls. "Go back to sleep."

Oliver stalks back into our room, and sits on his bed, hugging his knees to his chest, watching the far wall and watching me pretend to sleep. For hours. It's now four in the morning and there is no way either of us will get any sleep for the rest of the night.

"Percy," Oliver tries. I ignore him. "I know you're not asleep; your breathing is too irregular."

I snort. Studying my breathing habits: boredom.

"Fine," he spits. "If you won't talk, I will. I'm sick of your 'pity me' attitude, Percy. Learn to stand up for yourself. To be yourself. To hell with anyone else! The twins were completely out of line, so just ignore them. Percy, really, when was the last time you let yourself go? You were yourself? With others around?"

I grumble a curse under my breath and turn over, exposing my back.

"You made yourself this way, you know," he continues softly. "When was the last time you were held?"

"Penny," I reply crossly. "Yester - "

"By someone you loved, who loved you," he clarifies hastily.

I sigh. I can't be anything but honest. Penny is a nice girlfriend, but not a perspective wife.

"You don't have to answer, I just want you to know - "

"The war."

"The war?!" Oliver almost falls off his bed. "That was the last time you were held?!"

"Yeah," I laugh a sad, bitter laugh.

"Good God, Percy, you're fucked up!" That sums it up.

"I know." Bitterness and resentment twist through my words.

Oliver jumps off his bed and joins me in mine, embracing me from behind. What the – If the twins found us!

"Oliver?"

"Shh, Perce, just go to sleep. I'll hold you, but I've got practice in an hour so I can't guarantee I'll be here when you wake up." He's being so honest and loyal. Maybe he should have been a Hufflepuff.

I have to share, to open. To repay him. But I can't. I can't bring myself to that. Not yet, I'm not ready.

It wasn't love, I want to say. Not during the war. It was fear that held us, not love.

"Go to sleep, Percy," Oliver whispers gently, tightening his grip.

*~*

_"Alanna! Guess what!" He bounced from foot to foot excitedly. "I made a friend at school!" _

_"That's wonderful, Percy. What are they like?" _

_"He's got dark hair, he's nice too boot, and likes to play quidditch." _

_"Is that so? What would his name be?" _

_"Oh," he flushed; embarrassed he had forgotten that important detail. "His name is Oliver and I can talk to him and he talks to me like a person. I'm happy, Alanna. I never thought in a million years that I would - " _

_"Percy," she said sharply, cutting him off. "Don't underestimate yourself." _

_"He doesn't know what I do, though," he explained sadly. "I say that I go to the library – he won't set foot in the library, all those books scare him – but I really go up to the owlrey." _

_"Percy, tell him, I'm sure he'll understand." _

_"I don't think so," he countered. "I really don't think so." _

*~*

"Oliver!"

I just ignore it, Fred doesn't want to bother me; he wants to pester Oliver… who fell asleep last night with his arms around my waist.

And it hits the fan.

"Oliver!"

Great, George is with him too. Oliver must have slept through practice – for **me**. Mind, he didn't **want** to sleep through practice, but he did.

And now the twins from hell are coming to see why.

On cue they burst into the room.

"You know," George muses, "maybe we should knock before entering…" Not only is it polite, but you can avoid confrontations such as these.

"Good idea, my dear brother."

"Shh!" Oliver hisses, detangling himself from my body, not knowing I'm awake yet.

"Guess they made up," Fred shrugs.

"It appears so."

"Fred, George, I'm sorry about practice, but let me get dressed before I explain, ok?" Oliver lets the twins' comments pass over him.

"Fine with us," George leers.

"We'll be going…" The door clicks behind them.

"What a fine mess I've gotten myself into," he grumbles, sleepily groping for his robes, still not realizing I'm awake. And it's my fault entirely he's in this mess.

"I'm sorry," I apologize.

He jumps, surprised at my sudden voice.

"It's not your fault," he sighs once he has calmed.

"Yes, it is," I argue. "I made them hate me and you're stuck in the middle."

"Percy, we're not going to argue about this now. We're going down for breakfast. Got it." He leaves no room for argument.

I nod.

~*~

I sit alone in the back of the library waiting for Marcus to arrive; he had told – ordered me to meet him here to discuss payment.

I snort. I don't even want to begin to think of anything I'm able to offer him.

"Good. You're here." Marcus drops into a chair opposite me.

"I'm here for my sister." Not for you.

"I never said you were here for me," he growls in return. I won't admit he has a point.

"What do you want?" Right to the point. No room for error.

"Payment," he shrugs.

"What form?" Did I just say that?

"Since you obviously don't have any money - " He curls his lip into a sneer. Who cares if I don't have any money? I'm certainly not complaining. " – I was thinking about you."

Shite.

"You want me… to pay with… myself?" I say slowly, not liking this at all. And I thought Oliver had a dirty mind.

"I want your protection, not your virginity, bastard!" he barks.

Oh.

I fight down a flush, but feel it creep up my neck despite my efforts.

"What use do you have for my protection?" You being the big bad Slytherin.

"I need it from the big bad Slytherin's father." He does that too often for it to be coincidence. It's really creepy, like he truly is reading my mind.

Malfoy, I realize. What made him stoop down to my level?

"So, we'll meet to study to avoid my common room. Some place. I'll owl you notes for when. Besides, you're a geek and a prefect and people will just think McGonagall or some other bitch made you study with me and you get your info. Fair? Fair." Fair? Slytherin, fair? They don't go together.

I eye him skeptically. This babbling idiot is the same jerk that terrorized the school for over five years?

"Who are you and what have you done with Marcus?" Lame, but to the point. At least I think it is.

"I am Marcus," he growls defensively.

"Marcus would never ask for help, especially from me."

He stares at me, face carefully blank, before taking off, calling "I'll owl" over his shoulder.

I don't like this.

~*~

"Ah, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall greets me as I enter her classroom. I'm as nervous as I've ever been.

"Hullo," I greet quietly, sitting down at a desk in the font as she gets up from hers.

"There is something Professor Dumbledore forgot to mention and that was your animal." What does that mean?

"I – I don't have an animal." I knit my brow.

"What animal are you able to communicate with," she clarifies.

"All of them… why?" That isn't common in this 'talent'?

"So that is why he neglected to tell me. Albus, you will never loose your edge."

"Ma'am, are you saying that it is common to bond with only one animal?"

Professor McGonagall nods. "You're clever, Mr. Weasley, I never doubted you."

"You're a cat?" It would make sense; Mrs. Norris hangs around her room more than the rest of the school.

"Correct, I am. T – Thomas – is a snake and your brother - " What else could he be?

"Is a dragon," I finish. Oh! That was rude. I shouldn't have said that.

"Very good." She's not angry. Good. "Now that we've finished the pleasantries, shall we continue with the lesson?" She's not angry, just minorly irked.

"Yes, ma'am." I open my notebook, eager to make up for my impudence.

"No, no. I'm afraid notes won't help you much in this subject, only focus and practice."

"Yes, ma'am." I don't think I will be good at this, there's nothing to know, just do.

~*~

"Mrs. Norris?"

"Filch's cat?"

"That demon beast?"

"He told it to eat Finch-Fletchley!"

"Mrs. Norris?"

"Giant snake?"

I scoff at my plate. Do these people know how to do anything more than gossip?

"Who?"

"Potter! Can you believe it?! He's evil! Attacked both Finch-Fletchley and Filch's cat!"

Apparently not.

"How?!"

"He's a parselmouth!"

"Oh no!"

"You-Know-Who was one, you know!"

"Oh Merlin!"

The buzz of gossip has made me lose the appetite I never had. I excuse myself from the Great Hall, returning to the common room. There I am surprised to find Harry staring blankly at the fire.

"Harry?" I venture. As a prefect, it is my job to look after my house… As a friend… that would never be mutual, so I won't even bother thinking about it.

He casts me a mournful glance before returning to watch the fire.

"Are you here to ridicule me too? To take points for it?" he asks finally, gravely, still feeling the weight of my eyes.

"No," I state. "But I would like to know if the rumors are true."

"That I tried to kill a Hufflepuff? Yeah. They're true." He couldn't possibly be bitterer.

"So, you are a parselmouth?"

"Yeah," he says angrily. "I'm a freak!"

"No, not a freak, Harry. It took me sixteen years to figure that one out." I sit down next to him.

"How can you say that?" he demands hotly. "Voldemort – " I wince " – was a parselmouth!"

"You're not You-Know-Who," I try. "And you're not a freak."

"I am," he grouses.

"Hedwig will make you feel better," I nod, not quite sure. I concentrate my entire mind as Professor McGonagall has taught me, grasping Hedwig's sapphire mind gently with my own, asking her to cheer up Harry. She agrees.

"What do you mean?" Harry shakes his head; I've puzzled him.

"Will she?" I press half-mindedly. That's not even a word.

"I don't understand," he shakes his head again.

The portrait hole swings open and an owl flies through.

It isn't Hedwig; it's Hermes. It makes sense; I'm closer to Hermes than Hedwig but still disappointing.

"I was close," I try a meek smile as she lands on my shoulder.

"Th – that's your owl," he states, stunned. People tend to state the obvious when in disbelief.

"Yeah. Hermes, why don't you go cheer up Harry, he's depressed."

Hermes turns to Harry and cocks her head.

_Him? Seem it to be. _

"Go on," I urge.

_Try._

Hermes hops onto Harry's shoulder nibbling on his earlobe.

"Where did you learn that?" he whispers around the fussing owl.

"I am a prefect, you know. I have to know these things." He expects me to be pompous, but even to my ears that sounds conceited.

Harry looks at me dubiously.

"I was born with it, just like you were born with parseltongue."

I'm vaguely aware of Harry studying me as I stare into the fire.

"You're human," he blurts, awed.

"I do have friends, you know," I gaze at him over the rims of my glasses. Three of them, but they are good friends.

"It's just I – not at home." Considering all he's seen are Fred, George, and Ron, not accounting for the brief glimpses of Ginny. He doesn't know about Bill or Charlie – who has yet to respond to my letter, but did receive it because Hermes has returned. I do get along with Charlie… a bit.

Yes, Harry is right.

"No, not at home," I reply quietly. "But, if I'm not mistaken, neither do you." Why else would the twins steal Father's car to liberate him from his uncaring Muggle blood relatives? Not his family. No, anyone who locks you in a cupboard is not family, even if the same blood courses through your veins.

~*~

"I'm sorry that I'm late, Penny," I apologize hastily.

She smiles at me as if to say everything is all right and means nothing is.

"Percy," she cups my face lovingly in her hands. "I'm next."

"No, Penny. Don't say such things. You're not going to be petrified; I'll protect you." An empty promise, but it makes her feel better. I can't protect her from this nameless foe attacking Muggle-born and – however Mrs. Norris is involved.

"I trust you." I wish you wouldn't. "You wouldn't break a promise."

Guilt.

She reaches to kiss me and I oblige, wanting to forget about her blind faith, bending her backwards over a desk, digging my hands into her soft curls.

"P-Percy?!" A squeak from the doorway of our abandoned classroom.

I tear away from her mouth and Ginny is standing in the doorway, dumbstruck. I can feel a flush slinking up my neck.

"Ginny," I choke, my voice deeper than normal. "Please don't - " Her eyes bug out even more before she bolts " – run away."

"Go after her," Penny persuades.

"Do you mind?" I ask, worried.

"Yes, but your sister is important to you and she needs you." I don't believe that, but I don't want Ginny to go around telling people, so I follow Penny's female logic.

I find her again down by the pitch, watching the Hufflepuff practice.

"Ginny?"

"How long, Percy?" She doesn't take her eyes from the practice.

"Last year, almost seven months," I admit.

"I won't tell anyone." That's a lie; she'll tell the next available person.

"Thank you."

Seven months of secrecy for nothing.

~*~*~

TBC? 

Thanks for reviewing! Yes, all four of you! ^_^'

Immortaljedi: Thanks. Unfortunately, I have, but what can ya do.

Indus: Well, my friend thought it was, so I had to clarify. 

Jen: Is this soon enough or should I work quicker? 

Elske: Your innocent looks do not fool me! I can clearly see that threatening mallet behind your back! 


	3. Chapter III

All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. And all rights and other stuff to The Lioness Quartet and Wild Magic are copyrighted trademarks and property of Tamora Pierce and Random House. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* And the title was borrowed from a Savage Garden song, The Animal Song, so that belongs to them and the same disc applies. 

**Pairings**: Percy/Penny, eventually Percy/Marcus, Cedric/Oliver  
**Contents**: Angst, Slash, POV, Lemon (later on), Fluffy (sorta), Het  
**Spoilers**: Yup. Books 2 and up. 

**Summary**: Percy isn't the 'freak' he and everyone else claim him to be. That, I think, is the worse summary I've ever come up with.  
**Status**: Incomplete  
**A/N**: In here Oliver is a friend and Percy can be normal around him, or so is my skewed view. And I liked the idea of Percy as a Wild Mage too much that I butchered it. Ruthlessly. Also, this is unbeta-ed. Was originally Percy Weasley and the Dominion Jewel. 

_*~* Indicates time change _

~*~ Indicates scene change 

**_Indicates the voices in Percy's head… rather his recalling past dialogue _**

Superstars and Cannonballs 

My world came crashing down around me when Penny was petrified. I was with her scant minutes before. It was my fault, of course. I wasn't there to help her, to save her, to keep my unkeepable promise.

The twins have become harsher dishing out insults and more liberal with their taunting about Oliver. 

And Ginny has become more and more reclusive, upsetting me to no end. 

"Focus, Weasley." It takes me a few seconds to realize that I had said that. 

And then there was Marcus. The creep was actually serious about the trade. We now meet about three times a week in the library, although his Ginny updates don't quite cut it. 

I think – know – I've received the short end of the stick: Marcus doesn't socialize with his 'acquaintances' as I give up my time to get a limited amount of information. 

On the lighter side, my private lessons are the highlight of my day, the best three hours. In my lackluster life, I have that class to look forward to. It helps me gain focus and patience that I can apply to anything (mostly my studying with Marcus). I can't explain, really, why I like the class, it is a bone deep emotion. Like an attraction to Defense Against the Dark Arts and a hatred toward Divination. 

"What's that dumbass grin for, Weasely?" Marcus drawls. 

"I was thinking," I answer nonchalantly. And it doesn't hurt my head… "It doesn't always make one grimace in pain." Did I just say THAT?! 

He regards me wryly, but other than that, he ignores my uninhibited comment. Over the year we have come to a mutual agreement: insults will fly but mean nothing in the library, we actually pretend to tolerate each other. Elsewhere is a different matter. I can almost be myself. 

Merlin! Does that mean we're friends? 

With Marcus? I don't care that he's a Slytherin, it's just that I can't even befriend my younger brothers and here comes a Slytherin. Rather ironic. 

But no, we're not friends. Never. 

"It's almost eight," he observes. Closing time for the library. 

I glance at my watch. "So it is," I reply absentmindedly, continuing with my essay. 

"I'll be going…" He's hesitant again. I've learned not to trust him at those times. 

"You do that." My tone hardens. 

"Percy?" 

"Hm?" 

"Umm… I was wondering…" he trails off. 

"You're hesitant," I snap. Like he needs a reminder. 

"Never mind!" he shouts, obviously forgetting we are in the library. Great, I've enraged him. I can almost roll my eyes at that. 

Marcus seizes up the front of my robes, pulling me to my feet, spilling my writing utensils, so that we are eye to eye. 

I narrow my eyes in annoyance. He's going to strike me. Just like second year. 

"Marcus," I warn. I'm not sure I have the bravery to back that warning up. 

Instead of punching me, he pulls me to him roughly. And kisses me. Tries to at least. With reflexes learned from living with my family, namely the twins, I shove at him and twist my head before his lips make contact. Thank Merlin. 

No. Not a friend. 

I struggle, knocking my glasses askew on his nose. The pads dig into the bridge of my nose painfully. 

He only pulls harder. It's futile to put up a fight; I'll only end up doing more damage to myself than him. I opt for not responding, violently or no, relaxing my body. 

Marcus realizes I've stopped struggling and releases my robes from his fist, casually fleeing the library, leaving his books behind. 

I'm not even going to think about it. I shake my head, collecting my books along with his. 

No. Not even going to start. 

~*~ 

"Percy!" Oliver practically jumps on me as I return to the common room. "Where have you been?!" 

"It's Tuesday, Oliver," I remind him, prying him from my shoulders. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday I spend in the library with Marcus. 

"Oh," he realizes. "Off with Troll Boy." Such a fitting pet name. Pet name? No, it's just the almost-snog that's getting to me. 

I sniff. 

"What happened?" he orders. 

I look around the common room; Fred and George are now fixated on our conversation. "Nothing." 

"Percy," Oliver chides. "I know you better than that, what happened?" 

"Later." Not in front of all these people. 

Oliver gives me a determined look before shoving me up to our dorm and locking the door behind him. 

"The twins will think – " I protest. 

"I don't care what the twins think and neither should you," he says solidly. 

I lower my eyes. 

"Well?" 

"He…" How to say this… "Well, he tried to steal a snog." 

"He what?!" Oliver roars, unlocking the door and storming out. "I'll kill him!" 

"Oliver!" I call, running after him. 

The entire common room grows silent as Oliver charges through and rushes on into the hallway shouting, "I'll kill him! I'll kill him!" 

I manage to catch up with him just outside the common room. 

"No, Oliver." 

We stand glaring at each other for an eternity before Oliver speaks up, 

"Was it consensual?" Consensual? The thought never crossed my mind, but now that he's brought it up… 

"I – I'm not sure," I say timidly. What is Penny going to say when she finds out – 

"You're not sure!" he explodes. "You're not sure if you said 'Yes, Marcus, you may take my mouth in yours'?!" I won't tell her if she's going to react like this. 

"You're making much too big a deal out of this," I comment condescendingly. 

"You're the one not taking this to what it should be! You're saying that you **enjoyed** that snog?!" he continues to bellow. "That you'd let him do that again?!" 

Well, umm… maybe? It was interestingly exhilarating. Oh Merlin, Penny must never find out.

"Good God," Oliver moans, leaning against the wall, defeated. "You can't be serious!" 

"I don't know," I reply earnestly. "Not now anyway. There are a lot of considerations to take into account." 

"Like what? That he's Slyhterin? That he's a he? What about Penny?" 

"All of them. Oliver, please don't tell her. It was a mistake and it won't happen again…" While I'm with her. Why do I always feel the need to explain my life with Oliver? 

"I won't," he says coldly. 

"Thank you. I'll tell her on my time." 

"Oh." 

"Are you done with your tirade?" I raise my eyebrows. 

"Verbal? Yes," he nods. 

"Good, now go back to the common room and apologize," I order. 

"Yes'ir!" Oliver mock-salutes. "Yes'ir, mum, sir!" 

I roll my eyes disapprovingly to keep myself from laughing. 

~*~ 

Eventually time passes, as it often does, and things return to a state of relative normalcy. Harry has sorted everything out as the wizarding community had expected, but what they didn't expect was for Ron to help him. Lockhart lost his memory and is now in the Minestry's care. All those petrified are now back to living and breathing, Penny among them. (I have yet to tell her about the Marcus incident.) And best of all, Ginny is back to normal. 

"Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall calls out as I was leaving her class for the day. "Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak with you in his office." 

"Yes, ma'am." I reply politely. 

She accompanies me to his office and lets me in before departing. I would love to know how Professor Dumbledore comes up with these passwords. Last time it was 'Milky Mint' and this time it's 'Gooseberry pie'. 

"Ah, Mr. Weasley," Professor Dumbledore greets me. "I see that you have made progress in your private lessons." 

Please be talking about the lessons with Professor McGonagall and not the ones with Marcus. 

"Not much," I admit shyly, "but it's enough." 

"Modesty," he reflects. "Don't see much of that now a days, do we?" That jovial glint is back and I have no clue how to respond. I'm not modest in the least. I boast about all of my achievements to anyone who'll listen – which is a grand total of three, but I try and that must count for something. 

"Professor McGonagall said you wished to see me?" I venture. 

"Yes, that, Mr. Weasley. I was wondering if, next year you would be interested in mastering the animagus transformation?" 

"Sir?" Only a few are chosen for this; it's a great honor. 

No one in my family was ever chosen – and accepted the honor – so I would be the first… To be followed by Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny. But I take what I can get. 

"You do not have to decide now – " 

"I'd love to, sir," I interrupt softly. "But sir, I don't know what – " 

"You are the exception to the rule, Mr. Weasley, you don't have the opportunity to decide." 

"Sir?" Riddles are definitely his specialty. 

"You are able to master any transformation you wish, provided you inform the Minestry of your ability." 

"Thank you sir." That's the only thing I can think to say. This is so important that it couldn't be written in the summer letter. This is amazing! Wicked even. Possibly the best thing that's ever happened to me. 

"Professor McGonagall will be teaching you next year." 

I grin despite myself. "Thank you very much, sir!" I enthuse. 

"Now, there is one condition." There always is a catch, making the outcome completely inconsequential, cons outweighing the pros. There goes my chance. "You must receive and excellent mark on your NEWT's." That's all? 

"I shall try, sir," I reply gloomily. That wasn't as bad as I thought, but it's still up there near impossible. 

"Your modesty has been refreshing," he smiles. There's something unsettling and creepy about that smile. "And for future references, don't be so harsh on yourself." 

I blush in both shame and embarrassment. 

"Yes, sir." 

*~* 

_"Hello, Alanna," he greeted softly. He had just returned from Romania and she was his first stop. "I was made a prefect," he stated proudly. _

_"Amazing!" She studied him closely. "What's wrong?" _

_"Scabbers," he replied glumly. _

_"Is he ill?" she wondered. _

_"I don't think so." His brow furrowed. "I can't talk to him." Realizing that made no sense, he elaborated. "I mean, I can talk to him, he just won't respond; I can't hear his thoughts. It's weird, I even get queasy when I try, like his mind is human." _

_"That is strange," she responded thoughtfully. "Has this ever happened with any other creature?" _

_"No," he admitted quietly, shaking his head. _

_"Well, don't worry too much about it." She attempted to smile. "He might be a fluke. However, I don't think that you should be this upset over a rat." She gave him a reproachful look. _

_"I don't know what you mean," he said sourly. _

_"Percival," she warned. _

_"You sound like mum when she's after the twins," he wrinkled his nose. _

_"Well?" She ignored his weak attempt to change the subject. _

_"Oliver outed me," he replied grudgingly. _

_"'Outed' you?" _

_"He found out about my secret." _

_"No offence, honey, but you have several secrets." _

_"Oh, sorry, Alanna, about being what you call a 'Wild Mage.'" _

_"To whom?" _

_"My Care of Magical Creatures class," he sighed. "Although Professor Kettleburn was thrilled, so were the Slytherins, but for a different reason." _

_"I'm sure that it will all blow over," she assured. _

_"When I'm fifty," he muttered darkly._

*~* 

The train ride back to London was uneventful and nothing happened of the slightest importance. I sat with the prefects, but conversed briefly with Oliver, Penny, and Hermes. Avoiding Marcus. Everything was relatively calm when we left Kings Cross. However, the twins were on my case about Penny the entire ride back to the Burrow. 

"I heard you –" 

"When did this happen – " 

"What about Oliver –" 

"Maybe he joins in – " 

"How far have you gotten –" 

I was trying to ignore them when that question came up, but it's rather difficult to ignore someone – two someones – when blushing furiously. 

Thankfully, the Burrow rolls in sight, and so does Charlie, waiting on the gate. I'd almost forgotten about that factor. Almost. 

I slowly get out of the car. The twins are still asking me questions, but I'm totally focused on Charlie. 

"Leave him alone." He sets his steely gaze to each in turn. 

Fred and George back off leaving me to deal with my elder brother. 

"Charlie," I regard sharply. 

"Percy," he returns coolly. "I believe you wish to speak about something?" 

"Yes," I reply stiffly. 

"Let's go for a walk," he suggests. 

"Fine." It's away from people, twins especially. 

We spend a mile in silence; Charlie digging his hands into his pockets, waiting for me, and I look everywhere but my brother next to me. 

"I hear from Fred and George you have a girlfriend, is that true? Or is their story about having a boyfriend true?" 

I pale. 

"Girlfriend or boyfriend?" 

"Girlfriend…" I don't want to talk about this. "Charlie! Why didn't you tell me? You laughed with them." 

He sighs, digging his hands deeper. "I know." 

"Is that all you have to say for yourself?" I demand. 

"No." 

"Then?" I prompt. 

"You have someone to understand you," he explains. "You have Oliver. You have your girlfriend…" he gropes for her name. 

"Penny," I supply coldly. Who doesn't know about this. 

"Penny," he nods. "I didn't **have** anyone to understand. To explain things to me. Sure, Professor McGonagall helped, but to be truthful, I had no idea what was going on myself – " 

"That's damn selfish, Charlie." He didn't have anyone, so I couldn't. "You **laughed** at me." 

"You're not getting past the laughing part, are you?" 

"No. I'm not. Ever since I've been born I've been the black sheep of this family. Would it have killed you to spare me the ridicule of something I couldn't help? Have you ever – " I finally look up into his – aqua? Eyes? "You have aqua eyes!" 

"Yes, I do," he frowns. 

"Never mind," I say quickly. "Have you ever been the butt of **everyone's** practical jokes just because of this rare 'gift'?" 

"You don't sound angry, you know, just like your letter." 

"What do you mean!" I growl. I don't like mind games. So much for psychology. 

"You sound desperate." 

I freeze. I'm not desperate. Not about anything. 

Just like I'm not in denial. Why can't I just lie to myself? 

I sigh heavily. 

"Now, back to your eye color outburst," he says firmly. "I assume Professor McGonagall told you about it." I shake my head to his question and to clear my thoughts. It doesn't work. "Riddle had – has – ruby eyes – he's a snake. McGonagall has amber eyes – she's a cat. I have aqua eyes – I'm a dragon," he counts them off on his fingers. "And you have amethyst eyes… And you're what? They wouldn't tell me." They who? 

"Anything," I glare, unforgiving of that desperate comment, no matter now how true it is. "What does – " 

"Wow. No wonder they didn't tell me… You're whatever you choose to be – you have amethyst eyes… At least you have a choice, Perce. At least you can do whatever you want with your life and aren't force to give up on your dream because your life was predestined, tied to one creature." 

He gave up quidditch to deal with dragons… no wonder he was so nimble, he was built like his animal. 

"Enough with the pity party," I interrupt. "Answer the original question. Please!" 

"You're right," Charlie reflects bitterly. "You've done enough of that for the both of us." 

"Am I that horrible of a person?" I ask miserably, running a hand through my hair. 

"No, I'm that horrible of a brother," he assures. "The reason I didn't tell you was because I wasn't allowed to. I wasn't permitted to even **hint** at the power you have inside you. Do you know how bad I wanted to tell you what you were capable of?" Now he's the one that sounds desperate. This isn't happening. I don't **have** the power he's speaking of… but he laughed. 

"You – wanted to tell me? Then why did you laugh?" 

"Well, it was humourous to see that dragon toddling after you, thinking you were his mum." He smiles, but I don't see anything amusing about it. "C'mon, Perce, it's all right to smile, to laugh. Just because someone is laughing at something you've done, doesn't mean they're laughing at **you**. And you were what, eight years old? By, Merlin, Percy, anyone who laughs at you is too daft to recognize the power you possess. Like the… twins." 

"I'm not powerful," I protest. "Not powerful at all." 

"Believe me, Perce, you are. You know the animal chooses the person, right? So, how many wizards in the world are capable of transforming into whatever animal they fancy and are able to communicate with whatever animal they fancy?" Before I can get a word in edge-wise, he barrels on. "None, Percy, none. You're the only one in the world – " 

"So I really am a freak." 

"No, Percy, let me talk now, feel sorry for yourself later." Well, grr. "Four in Europe. Three in North America. Four in Africa. Two in Australia. Four in Asia." He ticks the continents on his fingers. "That's seventeen in the entire world with our talent! 2/17ths are here right now." I am capable of simple arithmetic, Charlie. "I've done research, even met some of these people. Of them, you are the only one with the power, the aura, the whatever, to do that. 

"There's a reason that they're so hush-hush about this, you know. They told me that at least. We are, basically a secret weapon. For, Merlin forbid, the second battle against You-Know-Who. He's not gone, Percy, and we're going to have to fight against him. With your power, after training, we shouldn't have a problem." 

I flush, but still protest. "Charlie, I don't – " 

"Percy," he says in a firm, no nonsense tone. "You need to learn when to shut your mouth and when to open it." 

I open my mouth to protest again. 

"Now would be a time to shut it. I've won fair and square." As opposed to fair and round? 

"Don't be so smug about it," I grumble, knowing he's right enough that I can't argue my way out. 

"Friends?" Charlie extends his hand. 

"I suppose," I agree, taking his hand and shaking. 

"Wanna get even with the twins?" he offers, his aqua eyes glinting mischievously. 

I grin. 

*~* 

_"Hello, Alanna," he greeted. "How have you been?" _

_"You don't have to be so formal, you know," she replied tartly. "You've known me for too long to get all formal on me now." _

_He tried to smile. "Well?" _

_"Something wonderful happened: what is it?" she stated bluntly. _

_"I'm getting training for my animagi talent." _

_"That's wonderful. It's about time." Her smile faded as he frowned. "Charlie is the same as I am, in a way." _

_"I know." _

_"You know!" _

_"Of course. I'm sure you remember how Charlie reacted when you brought home that dragon." How could he forget? "He thought it was the best thing in the whole world. He went on about it for weeks afterward." _

_"He didn't tell me." He sounded sulky even to himself. _

_"Of course not, honey, he told Daine – my friend, the portrait in his room – how he wanted to talk to you, but to quote him it 'was like practicing magic over the summer'. However, that's not all that's bugging you." When did she get to know him so well? _

_"No." He plopped down on his bed. _

_"Well then?" _

_"You remember the Slytherin that kept giving me a hard time for the past six years?" She nodded and he told his tale of blackmail. _

_"Oh. My. That is interesting," she mused. _

_"I don't know what to make of it," he confessed. _

_"Then don't think about it," she suggested. "I know it will be difficult, but try." _

_"Thanks." _

_"You'll have a great year next year, I know it." _

_"If Marcus stays out of my life," he grumbled. _

_"If you don't think about him," she corrected. _

*~* 

"What happened?!" Oliver asks, then caught sight of my badge.

"I'm head boy!" I explain enthusiastically. 

"Head boy?" 

"Don't act so surprised," I scowl, taking a seat on the train. 

"Don't frown," Oliver chastises. "It's unbecoming. Head boy, huh?" 

I nod. I had spoken to Penny about this and she was just as enthusiastic. 

"Congrads!" Oliver flings his arms around me. 

"Oliver!" I gasp as he expels the air from my lungs. 

"What?" 

"Can't breath." 

"Oh, oops." He releases me. "Sorry." 

"You're entitled," I smile sheepishly. "You were just caught up in the moment… But I don't think this was a wise decision." 

"Of course it was!" Oliver cries. "How can you say that? How many people get a chance to be head boy?"

**_How many wizards in the world are capable of transforming into whatever animal they fancy and are able to communicate with whatever animal they fancy? _**

Go away, Charlie.

"It just gives the twins more fuel," I remind him darkly.

"Percy," he says seriously, "everything gives the twins fuel. Plus, Bill was head boy; they didn't insult him, did they?"

"No, they **respect** him too much for that. He even eggs them on."

"You're really going to have to talk to them about their behavior."

I'm absolutely scandalized. "No. It hasn't done any good in the past fifteen years, why would it make any difference now." I snort.

"You should have more faith in both yourself and the twins," he intones coolly.

"Can we not talk about this now?" I plead.

"It'll come up again," he warns.

"And I'll wave it off then too."

Oliver eyes me warily. "I'm on to you, Weasley." Which is why he uses my last name.

I bet you are, you would be.

~*~

Marcus doesn't even wait until after the Sorting to approach me; he does so on the train.

Fidgeting madly, he again asks for my tutoring.

I want to decline. How I want to say no, that I owe him nothing. But I'm head boy now and I have responsibilities and an image to keep clean. Especially in front of so many prefects.

"All right," I relent neutrally. "Same time and place."

Marcus all but bows in gratitude.

Into the hand basket.

~*~

We meet in the library that very night.

"Why, Marcus?" I inquire abruptly. He stares blankly at me, so I elaborate. "Why are you continuing?"

"They're plotting something big." I imagine his eyes darting back in forth in paranoia.

"They? Big?" I ask vaguely.

"Malfoy and Montague. And I don't know nor do I want to know."

Coward. "So you're cowering?"

"For someone as vain as yourself, you can really be cruel. You would have made a great Slytherin." I'm not about to inform him I almost was. The Sorting Hat was on my head for five full minutes as I debated with it. I wanted me in Ravenclaw; it wanted me in Slytherin. Eventually we came to the compromise of Gyrffindor, being as my brothers were in that house.

"You know that the answer you gave was incorrect."

"You know nothing about it."

"Nor do I want to know."

"Well, Weasley. At least you can think for yourself," he says snidely. I can't tell if it's sarcasm or self-loathing in his voice.

"Stop the pissing contest," I say curtly.

He glares at me.

"Marcus, I know you're not here by choice, but – "

"What makes you think that?"

"I stop. I don't want to think about that. "Let's study, all right?"

He nods tersely.

~*~

"Oliver, something's not right," I state, collapsing on my bed, exhausted.

"You're telling me! I can't find my other suitcase. Damn house elves." He rummages through the room trying to locate the said missing suitcase.

"Seriously, Oliver, Marcus did it again."

Oliver whirls around to face me. "He kissed you again!!!"

"No, no," I wrinkle my nose habitually. "Study again."

"Did he mention why?" Oliver gives up his search to join me on my bed.

"He let it slip that he was there by choice."

"Gross!" he exclaims, thoroughly disgusted.

"That's one way of putting it. Who would be with me by choice?"

"Oh, no, don't you even think about it." Oliver threatens, " You know what I meant."

"I don't like you." When you're right.

"I know," he beams. "Something's up with that boy, though," he concludes solemnly.

"I don't know how to get it out of him." I glower at the ceiling.

"I know of a way!" Olive announces. I don't trust that. "It involves putting out and everything entirely out of character for you."

"I dislike it already," I frown.

"Don't you wanna mess with Flint's mind?"

"From our study sessions, I've come to the conclusion that it isn't really that difficult." It truly isn't. Of course sometimes I take off in an entirely different language than Latin or English.

"Wouldn't surprise me," he replies thoughtfully. "Are you for it?"

"I don't know, Oliver… It depends on how big of an irritation he becomes."

"So, you'll do it?" he asks hopefully.

"I refuse to answer until you state the guidelines."

"No fun," Oliver pouts. Actually pouts!

"I try. If it doesn't involve anything sexual, I'll consider it." Knowing Oliver, it probably is.

"Well, then. I'd better find that suitcase now," Oliver hums innocently.

"Get your mind out of the gutter!" I all but shout. Yuck accurately sums up every thought.

"You're no fun," he sulks.

"I know," I glare at him." Why do you think that **that** will help?" I just have to know.

"Dunno, he just seems like that type of person."

Oliver again gives up on his search.

"**What** type of person?" I'm not sure I want an answer.

"Wants something then freaks when he gets it," he shrugs. He… wants me? Does not compute. At all.

It may be worth a try…

Merlin! What am I thinking! Think with your head, not your dick, Percy! Think of Penny!

"Well, are you going to think about it?" he presses.

I snort.

"Is that a yes or a no?" He just doesn't know when - or how – to stop.

I snort again.

"I'm so glad you like my ideas!" he beams.

Why am I even **thinking** about considering this?!

~*~*~*~*~*~

Ack! I've completely ruined it!

Sorry about that last little scene, but hey, he's a seventeen-year-old boy and they usually think along those lines.

Next chapter contains Lupin. I've got the first five and a half chapters written out and waiting to be typed. Aren't you just so lucky?

Thanks for responding!

Leopardskinqueen: Isn't Percy just adorable when he's so insecure? ^^

Elske: No longer hiding that mallet, I see. I don't really see Penny as an evil bitch, I mean; she's with Percy so she can't be all that bad. Of course that can also go the other way, she's a bitch **because** she's with Percy. 

Jen: I'm trying. But, hey, Charlie did respond in this chapter. 

Cairnsy: Thank you very much! (Don't worry; I'm just as lazy… of course that might be cause for some worry on your part…) As for being a tease, that's what I do best. Now, Brad and Ken… I don't really know of any others, except one, but I forgot where I found it, so it doesn't really help. 

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed! 

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\ / You know you wanna click it! 


	4. Chapter IV

All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. And all rights and other stuff to The Lioness Quartet and Wild Magic are copyrighted trademarks and property of Tamora Pierce and Random House. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* And the title was borrowed from a Savage Garden song, The Animal Song, so that belongs to them and the same disc applies. 

**Pairings**: Percy/Penny, eventually Percy/Marcus, Cedric/Oliver  
**Contents**: Angst, Slash, POV, Fluffy (sorta), Het  
**Spoilers**: Yup. Books 2 and up.   
**Summary**: Percy may be a freak, but that's not always a bad thing. That, I think, is the worse summary I've ever come up with.  
**Status**: Incomplete  
**A/N**: In here Oliver is a friend and Percy can be normal around him, or so is my skewed view. And I liked the idea of Percy as a Wild Mage too much that I butchered it. Ruthlessly. Also, this is unbeta-ed. Was originally Percy Weasley and the Dominion Jewel. 

_*~* Indicates time change _

~*~ Indicates scene change 

**_Indicates the voices in Percy's head… rather his recalling past dialogue _**

Superstars and Cannonballs 

Another year, another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It hasn't always been this way; Quirrel was the DADA teacher since my second year, but ever since two years ago, we've gone through as many teachers. A total of four in seven years, that's not a really good record. 

I sit next to Oliver, on the opposite side of the room from Marcus. The professor has yet to arrive and all we have of him is a name: Remus J. Lupin. And I can't shake the cancerous dread nagging the back of my mind. 

"Oliver, something's not right," I whisper. He looks across to Marcus. "No, not Marcus, our teacher," I correct, trying not to think of Marcus. The seventh year class is much smaller than the rest of the classes in school, and there's a minimum number of students that can be in one class, so we have doubled up with houses that we normally would never come in contact with… At least for that one class. We have a total of three classes with Slyhterins: DADA, Potions, and Care of Magical Creatures. 

"What about him?" He gives me a quizzical eyebrow. 

"I don't know, however, when has a teacher ever been tardy on the first day of classes?" 

"Well, there was that one time –" Leave it to Oliver to answer a rhetorical question. 

The door opens quickly, silently as a young man, presumably Professor Lupin, slips in. I recognize him from the High Table last night. He can only be a handful of years older than Bill, but his sandy hair is mottled with flecks of grey. 

What would make someone so grey at such a young age? 

"I'm dreadfully sorry for my tardiness, but I am still recovering from an illness," he explains, dragging himself to the podium. "I'll be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year, R – Professor Lupin. And, I'm sure you're, by now, familiar with attendance on the first day, so – " 

Something is off. 

My bones and muscles start humming. 

"Oliver," I hiss, "something's wrong with me." 

"Are you sick?" he whispers back, concerned. I do fall ill often, but this isn't a sickness. 

I shake my head as the song in my blood crescendos. 

"Mr. Weasley," he addresses me sharply. The tips of my ears burn before I remember that he's taking attendance. 

"Present," I reply steadily. 

"Mr. Wood?" 

"Hi!" Oliver grins insanely. 

"Very good," Professor Lupin concludes. "Everyone is present. How about we start the year on a relatively simple note, so none of you hate me too much, just yet." There is some nervous laughter from his audience. "How about covering the properties of the opal? I understand that it was touched upon last year, but no depth was given." 

There are a few unhappy murmurs, but no outright objections. 

"Good," he smiles, albeit shakily. He then launches into a lecture about protection and shielding and jewelry. I already know all that; I researched it last year when Professor Lockhart had failed to teach us anything. 

Opals are magical weapons, like a sword and shield in one. The stone shields a possessor from magical detection and he is also less susceptible to magical attack. This stone is also used as a focus, to channel energy and intensify it. 

Hence, I find myself doing something I rarely indulge in: staring off into space and allowing my mind to wander. 

My mind focuses on my own body first. My nerves are still on edge; I'll visit Madam Pomfrey later and ask her to explain everything so I can fix it myself and learn for future references. 

Next, my mind wanders to the nearest animal. A shrike is perched just outside the window merrily shredding the entrails out of an impaled rodent. 

The next creature I have never come across before. His mind is grey, dull, almost tan. But it's organized. No true animal has an organized mind… that I've come across…. Only people have organized minds. 

I don't want to be pushing around in his mind and I try to break contract, only he won't let me go; he holds onto my mind and squeezes. Hard. 

I gasp involuntarily. 

His mind is feral. That's the only word for it… well, maybe synonyms. 

I will myself to be free, to be in my own body again, but he doesn't let go. 

Well, if he won't let me leave, it wouldn't be bad if I slipped **into** his mind to see with his eyes. I might even find out what his is. I make the shift slowly and it makes my stomach turn and my nerves tighten. I've only done this once before with Hermes and it did nothing to my physical body except make my eyesight stronger. No, he is nothing like Hermes, gender having nothing to do with it. 

Images. A downtrodden dark-haired man. A grim. A stag. Smells: freshly spilt blood. 

I slide into his eyes and see… myself? I can even see my glazed eyes widen in surprise as my chest heaves as I fight for the breath I hadn't realize I needed. 

"Oliver!" I hear myself whisper frantically. I know it's a whisper, but it sounds like a shout. 

I watch as Oliver turns to me as if to ask me an irritated 'what?' and his expression changes to dread as he sees my comatose body. 

He then shakes my body fiercely and I feel my mind rip from his mind and back into my own body. 

I am very happy as I land back in my body with my mind in tact (I think) and I smile as my lungs labor for air. 

"Perce, you ok?" he whispers. 

I ignore him for a while. I love the boy dearly, but it's rather irksome to be fighting for breath and someone has the shortsightedness to ask if you're all right. Of course I'm not all right. I was just sucked into something's mind and I still have no idea what! 

I force myself to calm. Hysterics would only take my already shallow breathing and turn it into a full-blown panic attack. I've had only one before and it wasn't fun or painless. 

I feel like I've been kicked by a porlock. 

I quickly scan the room, feeling eyes on me. Much to my relief, none of the students, save Oliver, are watching my embarrassing show. They're all watching the professor; his breathing is as irregular as mine, and his face is flushed. 

My stomach flips. 

Merlin's beard! 

"What are you?" I rasp. 

No one hears, as they weren't meant to. I barely even heard myself. No, they're too busy pestering the professor. 

"Professor, you're still ill: sit down." 

"You should see Madam Pomfrey." 

"You look feverish." 

"I am fine, I assure you," Professor Lupin raises a hand to stop the babbling. His voice isn't as rough as mine, but still deeper than it was before my foolishness. "Just take the rest of the time as a free period." He looked pointedly at me. 

He knows. 

I'm doomed. My second day as head boy and I do something so foolhardy! I haven't even had a chance to do any true head boy duties and Professor Dumbledore is going to take away my badge… 

"Mr. Weasley, may I please speak with you?" This isn't a question like when he asked about the lesson; this is an order. 

Marcus sneers at me. 

"Yes, sir." I steal myself as he invites me into his office and closes the door firmly behind us. 

"I'm really very sorry," I blurt out. "I had no intention to cause any harm. I didn't even know what I was doing, really." 

"Mr. Weasley, please, calm yourself." 

I fall silent and the only thing I can hear is my raging heartbeat. 

"You had no way of knowing," he says gently. Knowing what? "I'll over look this just this once, but please, for your own safety, please, stay out of my head." 

"Yes, sir," I breathe. I don't want to repeat that hellish experience. 

What is he? I want to ask him about that, but before I can open my mouth, the bell rings. 

"Excuse me." He brushes past me for his next class. 

What **is** he? 

~*~ 

"Percy, what **was** that?" Just what I don't want. I just came back to my dorm to pick up my Advanced Transfiguration book, not to get all shaky under Oliver's interrogation. 

"I honestly don't know." And if I did know, it's not really information I would volunteer. 

"Perce, you were hyperventilating!" Thank you for stating the obvious. Boy, I'm in a cynical mood. 

"I realize that, but I don't know why." Besides being pulled from my body, a very painful experience, like being squeezed through a tube. 

"Maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey about this…" he suggests, concerned for my well-being. 

"What would I say exactly?" I challenge. 

"Tell her what happened," he shrugs, at a loss for anything more concrete. 

"But I don't **know** what happened," I lie. I hate lying, I think that it is the foulest deed to deceive someone, but at the moment, I want out. It's not a complete lie though; I still don't know the why and the how. "But I'm fairly certain that wasn't supposed to happen. I should speak with Professor McGonagall about this." 

I grab my book before he can ask 'Why McGonagall?' and leave for class. 

~*~ 

I stay after class for my tutoring, starting off by explaining what happened in DADA. 

She chastises me, saying that I should mind my own business, to keep my nose out, and to be more careful when I let my mind wander. 

She is very strict about it, more than the norm. 

Not to sound to ominous, but she's hiding something; I can feel it. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Sorry for the shortness, but it was the only place I could break it up without going on forever. The next part introduces the Oliver/Cedric pairing, though. ^_~ 

Thanks for responding! 

Demeter: Thanks. ^^ Originally this was going to be a Percy/Oliver fic, but I decided against it because the personalities didn't match up in the way that they were supposed to. *Shutting up before giving away too much* 

Sandi: Dude, thanks, I am! 

Jen: I'm working on it, I swear! Oh! Now I want amber eyes too! 

Rogue: Thank you for your ideas and continuous support. ^-^ 

Kimagure: Sorry, I used your Percy for a paragraph, but I returned him unscathed, see? *pats him on the head * Yes, this is going to be Marcus/Percy, rather, Percy/Marcus. Eventually. If those two ever get around to it. 


	5. Chapter V

All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. And all rights and other stuff to The Lioness Quartet and Wild Magic are copyrighted trademarks and property of Tamora Pierce and Random House. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* And the title was borrowed from a Savage Garden song, The Animal Song, so that belongs to them and the same disc applies.  
  
Pairings: Percy/Penny, eventually Percy/Marcus, Cedric/Oliver  
  
Contents: Angst, Slash, POV, Fluffy (sorta), Het  
  
Spoilers: Yup. Books 2 and up.  
  
Summary: Percy may be a freak, but that's not always a bad thing. That, I think, is the worse summary I've ever come up with.  
  
Status: Incomplete  
  
A/N: In here Oliver is a friend and Percy can be normal around him, or so is my skewed view. And I liked the idea of Percy as a Wild Mage too much that I butchered it. Ruthlessly. Also, this is unbeta-ed. Was originally Percy Weasley and the Dominion Jewel. I decided to keep this PG-13, so no sex. Darn. Wait… by mentioning that word, does that mean it's not 13 anymore?  
  
*~* Indicates time change  
  
~*~ Indicates scene change  
  
Indicates the voices in Percy's head… rather his recalling past dialogue  
  
  
  
Superstars and Cannonballs  
  
"Percy?" I peer at Penny over my book. She offered to help me on my search about Professor Lupin, even though she still knows nothing of my… talent; she just wants to help.  
  
Everyday since that first day, I have done nothing more than pay strict attention to Professor Lupin's words; he is an excellent teacher. However, I am still nervous around him.  
  
"Yes, Penny?"  
  
"He keeps attempting to approach us," she nods. I follow her head… that is directed at Marcus.  
  
It's Saturday, I'd forgotten.  
  
"Penny, I've forgotten," I explain, "I meet him three times a week to tutor him."  
  
"I remember."  
  
"I'd better be going then…" I scoop up my books and my bag, pecking Penny on the cheek before approaching Marcus.  
  
"I wouldn't expect you of all people to forget," he drawls.  
  
I do have more important things to do that help him avoid…. becoming a Dark Wizard. He doesn't want to be pressured into that group; it isn't his fault he's in the house he is… Ok, maybe that is his fault. The point is he doesn't want to become a Death Eater and he asked for help. Right? The last thing this world needs is another war – pain – and if I can stop it, I'll damn well try. Merlin, I've got to do this.  
  
"I did and I'm sorry." Can we get going? I don't like being in front of this many people.  
  
We've been meeting in my dorm this year, mostly due to the increase in Slytherin population that frequents the library. I really don't mind it, even if it is against the rules…  
  
I just admitted that I didn't mind breaking the rules. What is happening to me?  
  
Oliver minds, though, and he spends every breath telling me so.  
  
"Well?"  
  
I sigh and lead him from the library up to my dorm. I must say that he has been on the most excellent behavior, no deep-cutting remarks, no false moves. Nothing less than friendly. And it's so… unnerving, unsettling, out of character, odd, wrong. Take a pick, they all work.  
  
"How is your werewolf essay coming?" I ask as I spread out my books over my bed and he applies the same treatment to the floor.  
  
Snape has taken over our DADA class and assigned us an essay on werewolves. It doesn't seem right; Professor Lupin was discussing curses before he had taken ill, not dark animals.  
  
Possibly it could just be Snape being bitter. No, he almost always has an ulterior motive.  
  
"I'm having difficulty with the mindset shift," he frowns at the open book in his lap.  
  
He's actually quite sharp, cleverer than one might originally think, and, I confess, what I used to think.  
  
"What about it?"  
  
"How the Wolfsbane Potion affects the mind." Oh, well, that's easy enough.  
  
"The potion, taken before the full moon, is a mind-manipulant, much like a love potion or the Imperius Curse. It takes root in the subconscious of the wolf-human, growing until the peek of the lunar cycle.  
  
"At that time, it takes complete affect, convincing the werewolf that he is truly a wolf and wants nothing more than to curl up in his den.  
  
"Understand it now?"  
  
He frowns, nibbling the end of his quill. How do those feathers feel on his tongue… Gah! What am I thinking? Wolfsbane…. Yes, Wolfsbane.  
  
"How long before the full moon?" he asks around the quill.  
  
"A week. So, if I were a werewolf, I would need to take the potion…" The last full moon was on the… yesterday, so it would have been about eight days ago. "Eight days ago for the full moon… last night."  
  
"I see." He scrawls down a few notes.  
  
"And I would also spend today… recovering." Like Professor Lupin.  
  
"Are you sure?" he asks incredulously.  
  
"Yeah, I just realized something, is all."  
  
So that is what he is. That is what he kept me from finding out, told me to keep out. To not tell anyone…  
  
"You're pale."  
  
"It's nothing. Any other questions?" I really don't want to let this conversation to continue.  
  
"No."  
  
We spend the next few minutes in silence. He stares at me and mumbles something about an earring.  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"So werewolves only go after humans?" That's not what he said.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"What about an Animagus?"  
  
"In animagi form, no threat is posed to the wolf or the animagus, however in human form, the animgus is not safe, no."  
  
"So, basically, by mastering the animagus transformation one would be immune to werewolves?" That does make sense.  
  
"In theory," I frown. I guess.  
  
"What about cent- " He stops abruptly, snapping his mouth shut.  
  
Then I hear it too: a giggle.  
  
We look to each other, equally confused. It's probably just the twins to pester me about Oliver.  
  
The door opens and closes quickly as the giggling continues. It's not the twins. It's Oliver and someone with brown-blond hair covering his face. Someone male.  
  
Oliver is playfully thrown to his bed by him, laughing. The brunet laughs in response, jumping onto him, pinning him to the bed.  
  
My eyes dry out from lack of blinking and wide-eyed staring, and my mouth goes dry.  
  
Oliver reaches up and pulls the man to his lips, sucking on them fervently as the other's hands snake up Oliver's stomach and chest under his shirt.  
  
Ok, now someone needs to stop this before this gets too…. unbearable. I just wish it didn't have to be me.  
  
I clear my throat.  
  
Oliver's head snaps up, as does the brown head. He wipes the hair from his… handsome face.  
  
Cedric.  
  
Oliver is groping, being groped by, snogging… everything, with Cedric Diggory.  
  
A blush paints its way across both their faces.  
  
"Didn't see you there, Perce…" Oliver's voice is rough as Cedric crawls off him guiltily.  
  
"Noticed," Marcus grunts.  
  
"Flint!!" Oliver panics.  
  
"He won't say anything and neither will I." I fix Marcus with a steady glare. "Especially since he's in my debt."  
  
"Right," he grumbles.  
  
"Marcus, why don't we continue with our essays tomorrow, it's almost curfew."  
  
He glares, but complies, gathering his books and leaving without snort or lewd remark.  
  
With Marcus out of the picture and Oliver and Cedric as far away as they can be from each other yet still touching, Oliver asks,  
  
"Why didn't you remind me?!"  
  
"It's Saturday, Oliver," I reply stoically. "We meet every Saturday, have for almost two years." I eye Cedric, who's trying his best to disappear.  
  
Oliver follows my gaze and worries his lower lip. He's going to ask if Cedric can stay.  
  
"Just close your curtains and apply a Silencing Charm."  
  
His face brightens; his birthday present just came early. He flashes an award winning grin at Cedric, who in turn smiles back albeit awkwardly.  
  
Oliver then grabs Cedric with quicksilver speed and they disappear behind Oliver's bed curtains.  
  
There is no way that I'll ever be able to continue to focus on my essay while they're so, so very close. I should give them their privacy.  
  
I resign for the night, stowing my books on my desk and going down to the common room with another text to read.  
  
I find a corner, open the book in my lap, and think, ignoring the din of voices and the open book.  
  
Professor Lupin is a werewolf… and Oliver's upstairs with Cedric.  
  
That's too much to wrap my mind around.  
  
I could handle one or the other but not both.  
  
So. Professor Lupin is a werewolf. Harmless since he takes the Wolfsbane Potion. Therefore is nothing I should lament on. He's not a threat to anyone. Harmless. Everything is taken care of, no need to worry.  
  
Oliver and Cedric.  
  
How long have they been sneaking around behind my back? Were they ever planning on telling me?  
  
I can't think about this now; I'll ask them later, Oliver rather. I don't think Cedric will be able to look at me again after that. Even though I do have a meeting with the prefects tomorrow afternoon to discuss, ironically, inter-house relationships in direct relation to common rooms.  
  
Oliver, on the other hand, I have to face every night for the next couple of months before graduation.  
  
Graduation means getting a real job. I need to write a résumé for the Ministry if I ever plan on getting in. I need to get in; it's what they expect. I plan on applying for the Department For The Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. At least that way I'll be able to keep do what I want without reaching the end of my tether.  
  
Well, it makes sense to me.  
  
I can't spend all night sulking down in the common room. I'm going to need to get some sleep sometime.  
  
Bracing myself, I head upstairs, slightly surprised that the twins left me in peace.  
  
~*~  
  
I haven't been able to look Professor Lupin or Cedric in the eyes. In fact, I don't recall ever being able to look Professor Lupin in the eye.  
  
Oliver has yet to explain anything to me; he's been avoiding me, which is really difficult living in the same room. Whatever happened to our soul bearing?  
  
I frown down at my notes, then glower at Oliver studying on his bed.  
  
"Were you ever planning on telling me?" I blurt out before I can stop myself from being downright rude.  
  
"Telling you what?" he asks, not taking his eyes from his text.  
  
"About you and Cedric." About being gay, or bisexual.  
  
He glances at me, then back to his now very interesting text.  
  
"You can trust me Oliver," I plead, "I've always told you everything."  
  
"Not about this, Perce, sorry."  
  
"Why not?" This is not happening. I want to help not hurt.  
  
"I can't, Perce. I just can't." His voice thickens as if he is holding back tears. This is not going well at all.  
  
"Ol?" I shorten his name, hoping the endearment might affect him in some way.  
  
It doesn't.  
  
"I'll ask Cedric," I threaten. I will and he knows it.  
  
"I'm his rebound, and he's mine," he chokes. From what I saw, that wasn't just a rebound.  
  
"You're using each other?"  
  
"Essentially, yeah," he breathes.  
  
"Are you going to leave me in mystery still?" I attempt to joke. I have never been good with humour, that's what Oliver does. Along with talk incessantly, not with clipped words.  
  
"I was planning on it." That's the Oliver I know.  
  
"Enlighten me."  
  
"Can I not?"  
  
"No." I fix him with a severe glare.  
  
He sighs, setting his text aside. "I – well, I tried – for six full years I tried to get this one, singular guy to look at me. Not as a quidditch star, not as a friend. To see me romantically - if you ignore the lameness. Long story short, he became in interested in someone else – someone female."  
  
I didn't know. I had no way of knowing Oliver was hurt that badly. No way of knowing.  
  
Although it is cowardly to be using a person for a pathetic reason such as lowered self-esteem.  
  
"That's really pathetic, Oliver."  
  
"I know," he laughs hysterically. "And very human."  
  
Ok, so we've established that I'm not human, just twist the knife in a different direction.  
  
He's missing something, leaving it out….  
  
"Who was it?" I ask cautiously.  
  
He slams his text closed. "It's not important," he growls.  
  
"Yes, it is," I counter. I want to be able to give this person a talking to. How dare he hurt my Oliver! My Oliver… since when is he mine?  
  
"No, it's not." He gets up and stomps out, muttering angrily, "I need some fresh air."  
  
"Oliver? Do you not trust me?!" I cry after him.  
  
"It was him, Weasley," he spits over his shoulder. "The whole damn time, it was him." And he's gone into the night.  
  
Cedric. Shite.  
  
~*~  
  
I took my problem to the only other human I trusted as much as Oliver: Penny, catching her after class in the Charms hallway.  
  
"Penny?" I ask tentatively.  
  
"Yes, Perce?" she asks sweetly. That's my girl.  
  
"Have you ever spoken to Oliver?" I blurt out.  
  
"On occasion," she frowns. "He is almost always with you unless we're in the library."  
  
"I meant without me present," I clarify, hoping that she will cease her nonchalance.  
  
"Once or twice." So much for false hopes.  
  
"What did you talk about?" Please, Penny, get directly to the point.  
  
"Well, men. It's the only common ground we have, other than you." She frowns again, as if she doesn't approve my motives, which she probably doesn't.  
  
A dark ringlet falls into her eyes, obscuring her face. I gently brush it away, tucking it behind her ear.  
  
She leans forward, kissing me on the cheek in appreciation. She's never done that before, initiate a kiss. Not since the basilisk incident last year. It's always been me.  
  
"Don't distract me," I state, reigning in my growing irritation. "What about men?"  
  
"It doesn't matter," she responds lightly. It does, though.  
  
"It does matter," I contradict firmly. If it doesn't matter, Oliver would still talk to me. If it doesn't matter, Oliver would still be able to be in the same room as me. I would still have a friend. "What was it?"  
  
"I told him to keep his feary hands off you!" she shouts, receiving startled glances from passing students. "I told him that you were mine and that if you wanted him it would be because you would be with him, not me. And I told him that I would castrate him with a spoon if he touched you in any way! What do you think I said?!"  
  
I can't tell if that's sarcasm or truth, all I know is that I need to get away. Far, far, very far away.  
  
I turn on my heel and, without a word, take off. I need to speak with Cedric.  
  
But first, I need to get to my lessons with Professor McGonagall.  
  
~*~  
  
I rush though the halls, intent on getting to Professor McGonagall's room, trying to keep my mind blank. That's a lovely delusion.  
  
Oliver is gay. Might be. Or bi. I don't know. He is physically with Cedric. He has been thinking that he's been in love with Cedric. For six years. Penny knew. And kept it from me. And I was too stupid to see.  
  
Oliver told me to go after Marcus. Sexually. That explains everything, or at least should.  
  
" – improvement, Mr. Flint."  
  
That's Snape's voice. What is he doing out of the dungeons?  
  
Curious, I peer into the classroom. Snape is pacing the room and Marcus is sitting on a desk. He has a look of determination across his face and a slight sheen of sweat forming on his brow.  
  
This isn't my place; I should be going… It feels like Dark Magic.  
  
I need to get to class, Professor McGonagall will wonder –  
  
Pain.  
  
It's sharp, blossoming in my temples, squeezing my mind. It's different than Professor Lupin but just as painful.  
  
I shake my head violently, trying to free myself. It doesn't word, only makes my head more painful.  
  
I escape at a dead run, cradling my head in my hands.  
  
I'm not sure if it's my imagination, but I can almost swear that someone is laughing manically.  
  
~*~  
  
I don't mention anything to Professor McGonagall, even when she claims I'm not myself and very distracted. With Penny and Oliver and Cedric and Snape and Marcus and mind-grippers I think it's understandable. I'm almost done with the animagus transformation so that gives me one thing to brighten my complicated life.  
  
Today she taught me how to mind-speak. It's amazing. We've been working on that for weeks now and today I can finally speak with a creature without opening my mouth.  
  
When lessons are finally over I head directly for the Hufflepuff common room. With any luck, Cedric will be there. With my luck, he won't.  
  
Being Headboy does have its advantages, such as knowing common room passwords.  
  
"Animo," I tell the statue of a young woman. I've long stopped wondering why we have the Fat Lady and Hufflepuff has the attractive one. The woman nods and moves to the side, allowing me access to the Hufflepuff part of the castle.  
  
My presence startles a few third years studying.  
  
"I'm looking for Cedric," I say briskly. It would make sense for the Headboy to be searching for a Prefect.  
  
"He – he went to practice," one of them answers timidly; I think her name is Hannah, if I remember correctly.  
  
"Thank you," I clip, breezing out and down to the pitch.  
  
*~*  
  
"Alanna, I don't think that I can handle this anymore," he said stoically.  
  
"Handle what?"  
  
"Growing up."  
  
"No one can handle that, but it becomes easier after enough experience. It truly does. Actually, you become so accustomed to it, you don't even realize the responsibility any more."  
  
"That was certainly reassuring."  
  
"Don't get cheeky," she warned.  
  
"There's nothing wrong with cynicism," he frowned.  
  
"No, there isn't, if you use it correctly," she agreed.  
  
"Thank you," he said suddenly, bowing his head in respect, "for everything."  
  
"That's what I'm here for."  
  
*~*  
  
Practice didn't last long. I watched from the bleachers and Cedric joins me as his team shuffles into the locker room.  
  
"Hullo," he greets lightly. The sun plays with his hair… I can see what Oliver sees in him; he's gorgeous with a personality.  
  
"Hi," I say, suddenly meek, intimidated by his indifference.  
  
"I'm really sorry about the other night." He has the decency to look embarrassed, and I can't tell if he's flushed from chasing golf balls on a broom or blushing from the memory.  
  
"Actually, that is what I n – wish to speak with you about." I don't think my voice could be any graver; it's like somebody died.  
  
"As Headboy to Prefect or as friend of the person in question to his boyfriend."  
  
Boyfriend? He's serious.  
  
"Friend to – boyfriend." That took more will power than I thought it would.  
  
"I see," he says delicately, as he would have preferred the former to the latter. So would I.  
  
"Yes, I just want to know if you are serious or if you're using him," I say frankly.  
  
"Ah, I was expecting this. Yes, I am quite serious. Much like you and Penelope." Penny and I are not 'quite serious'.  
  
"I came to that conclusion, but I needed confirmation."  
  
I must be frowning because he gives me a measured stare before asking a very firm, very serious "Why?"  
  
"You already know the answer."  
  
"Yes, I do. Tell me so I know my assumptions are correct."  
  
I don't think I have ever known him to be this seriously focused and determined. Not even during a quidditch match. Not that I know him.  
  
"I don't want him hurt, yet at the same time I don't want you hurt. One of you will be." If Oliver is truthful about the rebound, Cedric will be hurt because he's serious about their relationship. If Cedric is lying and really on the rebound as Oliver said then Oliver will be hurt, because from what I've witnessed – his behavior and words – he's serious.  
  
Yet I can fell that both are serious which in itself can lead to complications. I don't know if it's because I know Oliver better than Cedric, but I have a gut feeling that Oliver is going to end up hurting, grieving, in pain. And so will Cedric.  
  
Cedric releases a bark of shrewd laughter. "I know, I think it will be me."  
  
He agrees with my prediction to a degree. Trelawney would be proud.  
  
"I wish you luck," I say truthfully. In life, in love, in lust, and in your match against Gryffindor tomorrow.  
  
"Thank you… I've been meaning to ask you this." I don't trust that for an instant. "But what was Flint doing in your dorm that night?" Oh great.  
  
"Studying." Don't ask any more questions.  
  
"Studying what? Seemed to me that he was studying you more closely than the text." Not thinking that way. Out of the gutter.  
  
"How can you be so sure of that?" I challenge. "You were a tad… wrapped up in the moment." He blushes.  
  
"I saw him approach you on the train…. There's more on his mind than books and I'm sure it's not just Dark Arts," he smirks around his blush.  
  
Somehow with that ridiculous expression he still manages to look good.  
  
"Preposterous. There's nothing. And if there is, I can handle it."  
  
"Of course you can." There is mockery ringing through his voice, but I don't care. I'm used to mockery in this stage of my life. I was used to it by age ten.  
  
"Thank you for taking time from your shower to speak with me about something so personal," I change the subject.  
  
"That sounds so damn formal, Percy," he smiles. "Lighten up." He smacks me heartily on the back.  
  
"Thanks," I smile back sheepishly.  
  
"Now that shower sounds promising." He hops down the bleachers. "Remember what I said about Flint!" And he's gone.  
  
I have always viewed Cedric as a shy boy, but what he's shown me is anything but. Oliver is good for him. They're good for each other.  
  
Too much to think about. Right now I'll concentrate on only two main focuses: NEWT's and the animagus transformation.  
  
Ack! I've forgotten my résumé!  
  
~*~  
  
"Percy," Penny tries after dinner. I ignore her, heading for my room. "I'm really sorry about earlier." I don't want to hear it. "I was just so frustrated after a horrible class and I thought that just maybe I could forget about it with you, but instead you asked that question… I'm sorry."  
  
She sounds so sincere. I turn to face her. Why can't I stay angry? I –  
  
"No, I'm the one who should be sorry." I clasp her hand in mine. "I was too blind to see that you were already harried."  
  
"Can you use a different adjective?" she smiles coyly.  
  
"Upset?" I raise an eyebrow and she giggles.  
  
"That's better."  
  
"What? You don't like being hairy?" I feign astonishment.  
  
"Stop it, you… I really didn't say all those things to him, you know," she admits soberly. I snap my eyes to her face. She's serious. "I – I told him that he would end up hurting himself if he continued to pine. I told him that – that I know what it feels like to feel that way about someone, not knowing if he feels the same but just as desperate."  
  
"Penny?" I gape. Is she talking about me?  
  
She shakes her head, tears leaking out of her sapphire eyes. "I told him that things are so complicated now that we're almost out of school, that we have other things to think about other than relationships. I told him that it was up to you to decide and whatever you went for I would be supportive, even if it wasn't either of us. I told him to go for it."  
  
I pull her close, kissing the corners of each eye as she sniffles. She's even more beautiful when she cries. I then kiss the top of her head.  
  
I must love her, or care a lot about her well being.  
  
~*~  
  
Ab Ab-Bb-C-Ab-C-D-Eb Eb-D-C Bb-A-Bb Bb Bb Bb C-D-C-Bb-Ab G  
  
I need to get that song out of my head! I don't know where it came from, but it's been in my head all day and I can't be rid of it.  
  
And right now it's handicapping me while I'm trying to write my résumé.  
  
So far I've included two years as a Prefect and then as Headboy, for leadership and then about the few languages I am able to use other than the standard two of Latin and English, including Spanish – close enough to Latin, French – close enough to Spanish, German, Chinese, Veela, and Elvish, for communication.  
  
Ab Ab-Bb-C- -  
  
I can't focus on anything but that song. I'll work on this later.  
  
Ab Ab- -  
  
Gah!  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
I apologize for this chapter and the next two chapters. But I promise things will improve, and there will be more slashly goodness.  
  
The song is Chorale and Shaker Dance, composed by John Zdechlik and the part Percy had stuck in his head was the trombone soli. If anyone cares to know.  
  
Wai! Sankyuu to everyone who responded!  
  
Olivia: I'm working on it. ^-^'  
  
Green Eyes: Marcus is supposed to be a mystery for Percy. Don't worry, he'll be explained later on. Promise. And the twins are just being brothers, never fear.  
  
Sciuridae: Thank you. ^^ And as I mentioned before, Marcus will be explained later, but there are still hints here and there.  
  
Cariad: I had to include Lupin's condition somehow, so I'm glad it worked out the way it did.  
  
Rogue: I believe I've answered all of your questions. If I haven't, feel free to email me back.  
  
Kimagure: Thank you and you're welcome. The next chapter will include Marcus/Percy *cough* interaction, promise! 


	6. Chapter VI

All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. And all rights and other stuff to The Lioness Quartet and Wild Magic are copyrighted trademarks and property of Tamora Pierce and Random House. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* And the title was borrowed from a Savage Garden song, The Animal Song, so that belongs to them and the same disc applies. 

**Pairings**: Percy/Penny, eventually Percy/Marcus, Cedric/Oliver  
**Contents**: Angst, Slash, POV, Fluffy (sorta), Het  
**Spoilers**: Yup. Books 2 and up.   
**Summary**: Percy may be a freak, but that's not always a bad thing. That, I think, is the worse summary I've ever come up with.  
**Status**: Incomplete  
**A/N**: In here Oliver is a friend and Percy can be normal around him, or so is my skewed view. And I liked the idea of Percy as a Wild Mage too much that I butchered it. Ruthlessly. Also, this is unbeta-ed. Was originally Percy Weasley and the Dominion Jewel. I decided to keep this PG-13, so no sex. Darn. Wait… by mentioning that word, does that mean it's not 13 anymore? 

One scene may seem trite at first, but please continue to read; it's not trite at all. 

_*~* Indicates time change _

~*~ Indicates scene change 

**_Indicates the voices in Percy's head… rather his recalling past dialogue_**

Superstars and Cannonballs 

"Mr. Weasley, I believe you are ready to try the animagus transformation." I've been waiting almost the totality of my life for those words. As well as another phrase, but that's different. 

"Are you sure, professor?" I ask just to make sure it isn't some cruel joke and she'll take back her words. 

"I'm quite positive, Mr. Weasley," her lips thin into a tight line. No, Professor McGonagall wouldn't be so heartless, although she does seem amused with my questioning. 

"What would you prefer I change into first, professor?" As if I'm able to decide. 

"Start with something small," she advises. 

Something small? 

Owls are small… what species of owl… Screech owl, like Hermes. I've spent enough time in her mind to know what the end result should be. I'll start off simple and then increase the difficulty with each transformation. Makes sense. 

"A screech owl," I nod, worrying my lower lip. 

I let my mind loose. I can hear Professor McGonagall's soft breathing. I tune it out. I focus on myself, my shallow breath, my fluttering stomach, my slowing heartbeat. My bones click and shift painlessly as the world becomes larger. 

I close my eyes, thinking nothing but owl. 

Mice. 

Flexing talons. 

Strong eyesight. 

Razor hooked beak. 

Fluffy greyish down. 

Narrow body. Lithe. 

There is a small click and then no more movement within my body. 

I open my eyes on at a time. The world is indeed larger and very bright. And Professor McGonagall is colossal. 

I screech undignifiedly as she approaches me, throwing my wings into the air. 

I have wings. 

I've done it! 

All of a sudden the world is normal. 

No… No, I lost concentration…. 

"Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall gasps, completely abashed. 

Wha? 

I look at her with half-shut eyes, suddenly very tired and very hungry. 

"Would you please put a robe on!" 

A… robe? I look down. My robes are puddle on the floor where I had transformed… Leaving me stark naked. 

Hastily I wrap my robes around my bony body. How embarrassing. The quickest way to lose respect for someone is to see him or her naked. 

I pull my robes even closer to my body. 

"It seems we have overlooked this minor glitch," she purses her lips. 

Minor glitch indeed. 

I pluck my glasses from her extended hand, 

"This should not be difficult to overcome, although I have never known this to happen before. Clothing usually stays with a person during the transformation." I love being the exception to the rule; it gives me the experimental feel of a lab mouse. "I have never known a screech owl to have violet eyes. You also have a white blaze though your left eye. Both of which you can use as identification when you register." Still thinking that I'll get that far? "At the moment, you are dismissed to study for your NEWT's, I believe you have an appointment with a Slytherin. Now, I must consult Albus about this glitch." 

How does she know about Marcus?! No, I won't think about that now. 

"Yes, ma'am." 

*~* 

_He plopped down on his bed with a heavy sigh, fingering the eye patch over his left eye. _

_"What happened to you, honey?" she asked. _

_"Marcus," he spat with far too much venom for someone so young. "On the way home." _

_She gave him a sympathetic smile. "You have put balm on it?" _

_"Yeah, I should be able to see properly again by tonight. It won't even scar." _

_"Is he being punished?" _

_"Don't ask… All because I am a Gryffindor." _

_"You don't know – " _

_"Yes, I do know. That he admitted it several times gave away his motive." _

_"Don't be so bitter, brush it off – " _

_"I can't when he's physically hurting me! It's different when his intentions were just emotional scarring, but physical I can't handle." _

_"Things will improve." _

_"When I graduate and no longer am in contact with anyone in school." _

_"Don't be so gloomy, things are bound to improve." _

_"Only because they can't get any worse." _

_She sighed in defeat. _

*~* 

Marcus is waiting impatiently outside the common room when I arrive, and the twins are heckling him. 

Strange, the twins – everyone really – haven't noticed Marcus studying in my dorm. Except Oliver. 

Curious. 

"Flinty is having an affair with Olly?" 

"No, no, it's Percy!" 

"Percy, please, he's too anal. It's got to be Oliver." 

"If you two are done being annoying bastards," Marcus interjects, "I do have a life that doesn't involve either of you." 

"Poor Flinty, it must be Percy." 

"Whom should we feel more sorry for?" 

"Flint: he has to put up seeing Percy in – " George chokes on his last words. 

"George?" Fred asks in trepidation. 

He croaks something incoherent before clasping a hand to his throat. Fred does the same before they look to Marcus in fear and awe, then bolt. 

Marcus watches them leave, predatorily leering. 

I clear my throat and he jumps. 

"Didn't see you there, Weasley." 

Well that was quite obvious. I look down at him disbelievingly. 

"So… studying?" he asks hopefully. 

"NEWT's in two weeks," I nod curtly before adding, "what was that?" 

"What was what?" he bats his eyelashes innocently. 

"Don't act dumb, it's unbecoming." Did I just say **that**? 

"Nothing I do is unbecoming," he smirks smugly. He's just so modest with an ego to match. 

"Study." 

~*~ 

"I just don't understand this! This is **so** stupid!" He wails, banging his fist on his text. 

I sigh heavily before responding; it's been like this all night and things are not improving at all. Oliver was smart and took off early to meet with Cedric. 

"What is it this time?" I try desperately to keep the exasperation and frustration from my voice. 

"Mandrakes." 

"They restore someone who is cursed or unable to transfigure back to into their original selves, the Mandrake Restorative Draft is taken." 

"I know that shite!" he growls. "You already said that! But how are you supposed to get a mandrake to restore you if you're, say, a matchbox?!" 

"We don't need to know that," I frown. I don't know the answer to that one; I guess I've never really thought about it. 

"You don't know," he drawls lazily. 

I glare at him. 

"I win!" he says with much too much glee. 

I blink at him in shock. This guy must be bipolar. "Win what?" I ask cautiously. 

"That round of questioning." I guess that's makes sense. "So, that means you lose and article of clothing." That, on the other hand, is very, very, **very** nonsensical. And just plain wrong. 

I curl my lip, insulted. "No!" 

"Why not?" he chirps. 

"Marcus, I don't know if I should say I'm frightened or disturbed, but I'm betting a little of both." 

"Play along, Weasley," he says meaning to be coy, but he looks just plain ridiculous. 

"I refuse." 

"The rules are simple: you get a question wrong or are unable to answer, you lose an article of clothing." 

Now I know for sure that I'm sickened… However, I do know more than him. Not to get a swollen head or anything, but it's true. 

"Fine." 

"Fantastic!" he smiles brightly. I can't tell what emotion is behind it. "Now lose a piece of clothing." 

What made me do this?! 

Hah! I take off my hat, thankful for not removing it before hand. 

"Great!" he beams. I have never seen Marcus this happy before; it's still unnerving. "Now ask me a question." He never said about what. 

"Why are you doing this?" 

"Doesn't count: that's not going to be on the NEWT's," he waggles a finger in my face. I want to bite it. "Now question away." 

And if I refuse, then what? 

But I won't, I ask. Why is my logic not connecting with my mouth? 

"The planet 'S' is seen the size of a knut and one hundred billion kilometres away. What is the actual size of 'S'?" 

"What the hell kinda class is that from?!" 

"Advanced Arithmancy," I supply conceitedly. I won. 

"That's not going to be on the test!" he bellows. 

Nonplussed, I respond with a lame, "It will be." 

"How do you fucking know?!" Denial. 

"You lost, Marcus, lose the robe." I smirk as he peels off his robe. 

An hour and several articles of clothing later, we were still volleying questions. I am clearly in the lead having only shed my hat. Marcus, however, only has his pants to lose. That line of hair from his navel dipping down into his pants is tantalizing. 

What am I thinking?! That's Marcus! And I wouldn't do this to Penny! 

I resist the urge to jump him, pin him down, and ravishing him, choking down my bile. I've never had these urges before, not even with Penny. Sure, I think about sex, but that's at night, in my dreams, not when I'm conscious and certainly **not** about Marcus or any male. Usually my few and far between wet dreams consist of faceless women. 

He glances expectantly at me. 

"What did you do to me?" I demand harshly. 

He looks away studying the far wall intently. 

"What – did – you – do – " 

"Potion," he spits, frustrated. "A libido increasing potion, happy?!" 

Bugger. 

"No, no, I'm not! It's rape Marcus, You couldn't have just asked, so you take! Rape, damnit!" My voice cracks, but I'm not hysterical, much to my credit, just sad. He could have asked – I would have given. No! That's the potion talking. I can feel it now, distinctly, humming through my blood, my bones, my skin. And right to my groin. 

He reaches for me and I recoil. 

"Percy," he shakes his head sadly, which makes him sound sexy. No, Marcus is not sexy; he's ug- damn attractive. I can't win this. 

"Get out, Marcus," I seethe, pointing at the doorway. "Get out now." 

He hesitates. Yeah, he hesitates whenever something horrible is going to happen, he always does. 

"Now, Marcus!" That's the first time I've raised my voice tonight. 

I can't control myself much longer. He did this to me, so he deserves whatever he gets. Unfortunately, I'm the one to teach him that lesson. 

I reach out and grab him roughly, pulling him to me. 

"You're responsible for whatever happens," I accuse; it's his fault, therefore if I hurt him, he's to blame. "I hope you feel guilt for the rest of your wretched existence," Not life, he's too low to have a life. 

I growl, throwing him down to the floor. Merlin help me, I get a rush from it. It's the potion, not me. I would never be like this. Never. 

I straddle his waist, leaning down to bite his exposed collarbone. And I thought I needed to gain weight; his bones are protruding nicely, and I can feel everyone of his ribs as I run my hands up and down his sides. 

He gasps prettily as I bite down hard enough to leave a bruise for days. Marked. My mark. Mine. I want to bite his ribs like that, but first, symmetry. 

I clamp my teeth down on the other side of his neck, hard enough to draw a small amount of blood. I lap at it, coaxing more to well forth with my lips. I roll it over my tongue: fresh blood. I've wanted that ever since I was trapped in Professor Lupin's mind. 

I want more. 

I bite down harder, drawing more blood. Marcus' chest vibrates as he groans, arching against my thighs and belly. 

He likes this too. 

Masochist. 

That makes me a sadist. 

Now for his ribs. I push myself down his thighs… Desire brushes desire. 

He loves this. 

Merlin, I need to get out of this! 

He chomps down on my collarbone as I rake my nails over his ribs. 

It feels wonderful. 

No, I need to get out. 

I shove him down and he moans. 

"Get the hell out!" 

He doesn't. Merlin help me, he doesn't. 

He reaches for my pants, and I swat him away. 

"No. Get. OUT!" 

I throw him down again and he hits his head on the edge of one of his texts, splitting the skin… I want to lick up the blood. 

No! I – This needs to stop. If he won't leave then I will. 

I rush from the room, leaving him behind as I head for the Head Boy's bath. He would never be able to get in there. 

I pass Cedric and Oliver on the way, giving them a curt nod of acknowledgment before locking myself into the bath. 

Away from Marcus, my blood is slowing, cooling, not as demanding. The change is welcoming. 

I need to analyze this; it's the only way I can keep myself at a relative normalcy. 

I search frantically for anything sharp and a phial. Strangely enough I am able to find both, a shard of glass and a phial. 

Wielding the glass in one hand, I slice the palm of my opposite hand, watching the blood well up with fascination. I catch most of it in the phial until it's full, then I set the sample aside and lick my wound, feeling a lot calmer than I was moments ago. 

Dropping the phial into a pocket, I head up to the hospital ward to see if Madam Pomfrey will lend me some balm for my hand. 

~*~ 

I wake up more tired than when I went to sleep, and very alone. No Oliver. 

By the sun just peeking above the horizon, I can bet that Oliver is warming up for practice, or rousing players from their warm beds. 

Marcus, on the other hand, was gone when I got back. Thank Merlin. 

Complicated. Everything is now so very complicated. And it's his fault. Am I still able to meet with him normally? Will I still be able to look at him anymore? What about Penny? What about stopping the damn rhetorical questions? 

I'm too exhausted to think abysmally this morning. But I need to talk to Penny, explain everything. 

My hand is sore. 

Breakfast is not a pleasant affair. I'm too busy avoiding Marcus, Oliver, and Penny to do anything other than inhale my omelet. 

And to make matters worse, the mail comes. I sent my résumé to the Ministry only three days ago and this morning a harassed, yet important-looking Eagle Owl returns with my answer. 

I stroke him and offer my links. I don't feel like ingesting meat this morning. 

I open the letter in apprehension. 

_Dear Mr. Weasley, _

_ We are pleased that you have taken… _blah, blah, blah. _We have come to the conclusion_ blah, blah, blah._ You have been accepted into the Department of International Cooperation. Your request for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures has been reviewed…_ blah, blah, blah. _ No requirements met…_ blah, blah, blah._ Your language talent is more apt for the Inter… Glad to see you following in your father's footsteps._ Ouch. _See you the first day of July. _

_ Regards, _

_ Catrine Petty _

_ Chief of Admissions _

_ British Ministry of Magic _

Etcetera, etcetera. 

Damn. First Marcus, now this. When did this spin so out of control? 

"Thank you," I tell him. 

He nibbles empathetically at my thumb. _Is sorry._

_Don't worry yourself,_ I whisper into his mind. _I forgot to mention my tutoring._ It's my own damn fault. 

I could kick myself. 

I need to get out of here. 

~*~ 

I collapse face first onto my bed. 

"What's wrong, Perce?" Oliver. He must have followed me. 

"If I tell you will you go away?" I mutter into my comforter. 

"Whoa! Bitter! Maybe I will," he entertains the idea. 

The bed dips as he sits next to me. 

"I really, really don't want to talk about it," I tell the comforter. 

"Really, now?" I can hear his smirk. Oliver's not the comforter's. 

"Really." 

"Cedric believes it has to do with Marcus." Does he now? That's nice, Ol, just believe your boyfriend when he tells you everything is ok. "After all, he was with you last night before you ran past us." Cedric is quite perceptive, though; he knew I couldn't handle this and he was right. At least he has the common decency not to flaunt it. 

Well, Marcus does play a part. 

"Cedric is clever, but that's not entirely truthful." 

"Is that what happened at breakfast?" He strokes my hair in a soothing manner. It feels nice. 

I can't have it. 

He's a friend. He has Cedric. I have Ma– Penny. 

My body becomes ridged. What am I going to do with this mess? 

"Percy?" he attempts. 

I roll into a sitting position. 

"I – I need to speak with Penny." 

"Oh. All right." He's hurt. 

"No, Oliver, I'm not telling her and not you," I promise. "There is just – I need to go." 

~*~ 

After asking four people where to find Penny, I am finally able to catch her spread out on a bench studying. 

She notices me and throws me a stunning smile. 

I frown plopping down next to her. I keep my hands in my lap, not touching her like I normally do. 

"Percy, what's wrong?" She places her hand on my arm and I recoil. I'm dirty; she's clean. 

"I can't do this anymore." This is too difficult. I can't believe I'm doing this, I love her so much, but the guilt is too much. 

"What can't you do?" She asks tenderly, cupping my face in her palm. I want to draw away, but it's too comforting. 

Everything. I can't do anything anymore. 

"Us. I – I can't do us anymore." No, no, no, no, no! That came out too harsh! 

"What happened to you, Percy?" She is now concerned for my well-being. She looks up at me sadly, her eyes darkening. 

"You really don't want to know." Could I possibly be any colder? I'm sorry, Penny, I truly am. 

"I might not want to, but I have a right," she states firmly. At least one of us knows how to be sure, how to get through life. 

Marcus. "I'm sorry, Penny," I shake my head. 

"Percy?" Hate me, Penny. This would be a lot easier if you were to hate me. 

She sighs in relief. But that would mean – 

"We'll still be friends, though," she bobs her head, more determined than disappointed. "Just not friends who snog hello." 

I look up to her face with a weak smile on my lips. 

"Yes, Penny, friends." 

~*~ 

"Percy…" I ignore Oliver's voice outside my bed curtains; I'm perfectly happy where it's warm and alone. "Percy!" 

"Go away," I grumble crossly. 

"Nope!" Great. "It's NEWT time!" He rips open my curtains. 

No. It can't be. "I haven't studied enough!" 

"Percy, you know you'll do better than everyone else so suck it up and get up!" 

"Thanks for your support, Oliver," I snort wryly. 

"Anytime," he grins broadly. "I'm glad that whatever's been bothering you is gone now." 

It isn't, but NEWT's are more important. 

Hey, that's a great start. 

I get dressed and brace myself. And I'm off to fail my tests. 

But I have to keep my promise to Professor Dumbledore. Yes, I'll try and keep my promise. Just like I kept my promise to protect Penny last year. 

*~* 

_"Twelve! I got twelve on my OWL's!" he exclaimed in amazement. _

_"And you doubted yourself." She shook her head in mock shame. _

_"I always doubt myself." She rolled her eyes. _

_"And you shouldn't," she glowered. "How will you ever get into your Ministry?" _

_"It's not mine. Father wants one of his sons in the Ministry, I don't necessarily want me in the Ministry." _

_"Don't you want to – " _

_"I want my father to be happy with his freak son," he spat. "I have to do something to prove myself." _

_"Does your father even know?" _

_"No," he growled. _

_She decided to avoid that in the future. _

_"Is a prefect not enough? Is a twelve not enough?" _

_"It's all been done before." _

_"Then strive for something that hasn't." _

_"The Ministry hasn't been done and Father wants one of us to go that way. The twins at a desk? Never going to happen. Ron? He's too interested in quidditch. Ginny? She's interested in becoming a Mediwitch. It's up to me, Alanna. I have to do this." _

_"You have a very strong sense of duty. You would have made a great knight, like Kel." _

_"Kel?" he inquired. _

_"In Ginny's room; she's a knight, like me; the second woman knight." _

*~* 

"Mr. Weasley, I'm afraid there is no way to get around your glitch." No way to be a true animagus, she means. 

"I see," I reply dolefully. 

"You will still be able to transform, however, be sure that when you return you have your clothing at hand." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

"As for now, your concentration needs work, so for the next few lessons would you be so kind as to transfigure just parts of yourself?" 

Trail and error. I love being the experimental one. When was the last time Professor McGonagall actually had to deal with another animagus? Probably her teacher. 

I don't think I've ever seen her this unsure of herself. 

And I'm the butt end again. 

"Try a knarl this time." A knarl…. 

"Ma'am, what part of a knarl?" 

"Please turn your hair into a crown of quills." 

Quills. 

Quills. 

My scalp itches. I have to ignore it. I have to concentrate on quills. 

Quills. 

"Excellent, Mr. Weasley. Very good." Huh? 

I pat my head to see if I really have quills. 

I do, and I draw blood. 

Hissing, I suck on my bloodied finger, trying to grasp the escaping feeling of quills, to remember for future references. 

"I shall see you this afternoon. I need to have a chat with Mr. Wood and Mr. Jordan before the match." She hurries out. 

Today is the match for the cup, Gryffindor against Slytherin. I promised Oliver I'd show up and support him. Unfortunately Marcus will be there. I've spent the past few weeks avoiding him; we haven't even met for studying and finals are coming up. 

~*~ 

My blood tests returned. I had asked Snape for a few potions to test what type of potion Marcus had used on me. I have done my research; there are many varieties of lust potions, which in itself sends chills down my back. 

I stare at the paper, my results scrawled in my hurried hand. I had little time to examine my results while testing, but now… 

Now – Merlin, there's no difference in my blood count. There was no potion. 

That would mean that – 

No. I refuse to believe I acted of my own free will. He must have used some Dark Arts charm or maybe even the Imperius Curse; I wouldn't put it past him. 

I need to confront him. 

Maybe this time I won't back out. 

~*~ 

Oliver and Marcus look like they're trying to kill each other with a handshake. 

"Mount your brooms! Three… two… one!" Madam Hooch blows her whistle and the crowd roars. 

"And it's Gryffindor possession, Alicia Spinnet of Gryffindor with the quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good Alicia!" Lee shouts enthusiastically over the pitch. "Argh! No! Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing up the field – WHAM!" Lee has to do his own sound effects, as if the crowd can't see that George just aimed a bludger at Warrington. 

"Nice bludger work there by George Weasley. Warrington drops the quaffle, it's caught by Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession. Come one, Angelina!" Apparently Professor McGonagall's 'chat' with him had no effect, just like the thousands of other chats she's had with him about being impartial. 

Angelina scores, I can hear Lee go on about it, but I catch Marcus' eye – not deliberately. And he just stares back, stupidly continuing to fly – right into Angelina. 

I wince. 

He shakes his head, shouting that he was sorry and he didn't see her as the crowd verbalizes major disapproval. 

I sincerely doubt he's sorry, but I'm pretty certain he didn't see her; his head was clear turned in the other direction, my direction. 

Fred on the other hand, doesn't believe him and aims his beater's club at the back of his head, causing Marucs to bloody his nose on his broom handle. 

My mouth waters… 

His blood flows just as freely as that ni– 

Madam Hooch awards a disapproving penalty to each side. 

Alicia takes the Gryffindor penalty and score. 

Then Marcus goes against Oliver. Lee rambles on about how great a keeper Oliver is… 

Marcus glances back at me before he takes his penalty shot. 

To say that he is distracted would be a gross understatement. 

Oliver blocks it. 

The games continues with filthy Slytherin tricks and Gryffindor retaliation and vice versa… It's impossible to watch all of the cheating and foul play, so I focus on Marcus and Oliver – 

"He has the snitch! HARRY HAS THE SNITCH!" Lee bellows into the megaphone. It looks as if he's about to soil his robes. 

Marucs sneers. 

Oliver tackles Harry. 

Fred and George join them. 

"Gryffindor wins the Cup! We won the Cup!" 

We won. 

We won! 

No one is watching me, so I let myself go, jumping up and down for all I'm worth. I've never been this excited! It's amazing! WE WON! Wait'll Charlie hears of this – 

Marcus is watching me again. 

I stop my jumping and retreat to my dorm to congratulate my team when they return, making a brief stop in the owlery to owl Charlie. 

~*~ 

Graduation was a horribly anticlimactic affair. A bunch of cheering, a piece of parchment, and never seeing some of these people again for the rest of my life. 

Penny wept openly in my arms, which in itself was awkward, but Marcus kept giving me strange scowls. 

Afterwards, Penny pecked me on the cheek and left with her family without a word. Oliver promised to owl, in between his make out session with Cedric – away from the ceremony. 

And Marcus… Marcus avoided me, other than making faces at me. Which is why now, I'm seeking him out. 

I know I'm being both stubborn and brainless. But I want answers. 

Ironic how when I don't want to find him, he's always the first person I run across, but when I'm trying to find him, he makes himself scarce. 

After an eternity I run into him in a back hallway. Literally, landing me painfully on my bum. 

He scowls down at me, not offering a hand to help me up. 

Picking myself up, I dust myself off. I'm going to bruise. 

"I need to speak with you," I say stiffly, in my best political voice. 

"Say it and get it over with," he spits spitefully. 

"That night – that n – that you tried to – when you said it was a libido increasing potion – It wasn't. I tested my blood; what was it?" 

He eyes me dispassionately, and then he punches me in the stomach. 

It hurts, a lot, but his normal force is lacking. All I have to do is double over and clutch my stomach; I'm not on the other side of the hallway concussed and bleeding from my wherever my body would have hit the wall. That has happened before, courtesy of Marcus. 

"Tell me," I wheeze. 

"That," he growls viciously, "is none of your goddamned business!" Oh, please. I refrain for rolling my eyes. "And even if it were – which it's not! – I wouldn't tell you anyway!" 

I half expect him to stomp his foot he's being so childish. 

I don't even know why I bothered. 

"Good-bye, Marcus," I bid. I pray never to cross paths with you again. 

I turn my back on him and Hogwarts for good. 

I don't want to look into his cold black eyes. 

I want him to stop me, but thank Merlin he lets me go. 

~*~*~ 

A knarl is kinda like a hedgehog. 

The quidditch scene is almost directly from the book: Chapter 15 of PoA. 

See, that racy (for lack of a better word) scene wasn't as banal as you thought it was going to be, although it was rather corny. 

Thanks to the reviewers! I love you guys! 

Kimagure: Thank you. ^^ Yes, Percy is a tad on the dense side, but he can't be that smart and not have any faults, now can he…. As for the other questions... to answer them would be to give away some key points…. Like the Percy/Marcus interaction thing, and yeah. 

Niamh: Thank you! Yay! I have converted an O/P fan! Muahahaha! 

Mira: Yes, he's quite clueless. About what mind-gripper? I do not know what you are speaking off? *tries to look innocent* 

Demeter: Jealous Percy and Human Marcus! Percy doesn't know who Cedric's rebound is. And there is still hope for Oliver yet! 

GayRon: Thanks muchly! 


	7. Chapter VII

All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. And all rights and other stuff to The Lioness Quartet and Wild Magic are copyrighted trademarks and property of Tamora Pierce and Random House. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* And the title was borrowed from a Savage Garden song, The Animal Song, so that belongs to them and the same disc applies. 

**Pairings**: No more Percy/Penny, eventually Percy/Marcus, Cedric/Oliver  
**Contents**: Angst, Slash, POV, Fluffy (sorta), Het  
**Spoilers**: Yup. Books 2 and up.   
**Summary**: Percy may be a freak, but that's not always a bad thing. That, I think, is the worse summary I've ever come up with.  
**Status**: Incomplete  
**A/N**: This chapter goes through the GoF quickly, but I needed to get to the good parts. *sniffle* 

_*~* Indicates time change _

~*~ Indicates scene change 

**_Indicates the voices in Percy's head… rather his recalling past dialogue_**

Superstars and Cannonballs 

Working is worse than I had expected. Oh, I had expected it to be harsh, an awakening, what I hadn't even thought about were the people not even bothering to learn my name, making me the gopher, and ignoring me until they can drop work on my lap.

My boss is as incompetent as the current Minister. Things would be better run if Father were Minister, , I'm sure. Although if Father were Minister I'm fairly certain Muggles would know about us within a week of his inauguration. So it would be for the best interest of the Wizarding community that he's not.

I had expected my coworkers to be like my schoolmates and they are, but in some cases, they're even worse. I now know why Ron ran into so much trouble with the Malfoy son, Draco, I think his name is, if he is anything like his father. Lucius is insufferable. He lives to torture both Father and myself. I have yet to discover why, except for deep prejudiced.

I have made a friend with a coworker, for which I am very grateful. Her name is Miss Rigby, but on our first meeting she told me to call her El. She is in an unnoticeable part of the Magical Creatures Depo, I doubt even Mr. Diggory knows her. She talks with me over lunch about animals of all sorts, where to find them, and best of all animagi. She is not one herself, but knows people who are and why they became what they did. It's quite fascinating.

This year is going to be interesting at Hogwarts; it makes me wish that I was still in school. But the Ministry is in a tizzy trying to sort things through. I am actually looking forward to the short break the Quidditch World Cup will provide. Oliver has already owled me, telling me he was going. As if there was any doubt. Cedric is going too, I heard so from his father.

The more I think about those two the more envious I become. I want their good fortune. Instead I'm stuck at a dead-end job and am letting my 'talent' go to waste.

"Weatherby! I want this done before the Cup!" Mr. Crouch barks. "We don't pay you to do nothing."

"Yes, sir," I return, trying to conceal my fatigue. "It will be done before the Cup."

I have been avoiding my report on cauldron thickness for the past two hours. Maybe I should get to work.

The sooner it's done, the sooner I get a break. I don't understand, I've never procrastinated in school and now I'm doing so all the time.

I have two days to finish this… I'll work on it at home.

I place my report in my inbox and it squishes.

Gross! Who would put dragon dung in my –

Twins. Why do I even bother asking? I've come to accept it as some bizarre sign of affection, and my life certainly would be quite dull without the little misadventures caused by them.

Putting aside all notions of cauldron thickness and family, I try one of the exercises Professor McGonagall assigned to me over the summer until I've perfected them.

~*~

"Percy, dear," Mum calls up the stairs. "Either help your brothers set up or go with your father to pick up Harry!"

"I need to finish this report, Mum! Mr. Crouch is expecting it by tomorrow morning!" I return, slouching over my report. I'm having less luck at home than I did at work.

"Just be down for dinner" But of course, so I'm humiliated in front of company. I need a break, though.

"Yes, Mum."

Fred and George pass my room muttering about trying a new invention. Mum will flip when whatever they're planning falls through.

Sighing, I stand in my doorway. "What are you two planning?"

They glare up at me and Fred grunts, "That's none of your business."

"Back to your cage," George demands disdainfully.

My… cage? No. I don't want to be in a cage.

Cages are for animals. Animals don't belong in cages. 

I'm more animal than I would ever care to admit aloud.

I don't belong in a cage.

How's that for syllogism.

Maybe I should move out. No, I definitely should move out. I don't want to be trapped. That is the worst feeling I have ever had the misfortune of experiencing.

That will also allow me to get away from my family.

"Hello!" Fred whistles, waving his hand in front of my face.

I blink.

"Geez, Perce, don't do that," George frowns.

Without responding, I return to my room, closing the door behind me.

~*~

Mr. Malfoy is not making my life any simpler. He became more livid when he found out that here was to be an age limit at the Tri-Wizard Tournament; he wanted his son to enter. And when Harry became a Champion –

That's not the whole of it, I'm sure – the Death Eaters have returned. They were the cause of all of my nightmares when I was under a metre tall. They made their grand reentry with a brutal display of pure cruelty at the World Cup. Malfoy's name was cleared all those years ago, but that doesn't mean anything. Imperius Curse, indeed.

He wants to become Minister. That would be the day to end all days. Literally: he would hand the Ministry over to You-Know-Who on a silver platter.

He dumps even more work on me than Mr. Crouch and I don't even know which branch he works for, certainly not the International Department. I would complain to someone. At someone, but no one would listen, so I don't. Even if I did, no one would believe me either; Mr. Malfoy is untouchable: nothing can hurt him.

And then there's Mr. Crouch. He's taken ill and his owls are the only instructions I have. He must have worked himself sick. So I have taken over his duties as a TriWizard judge. It's nice to be back at school.

As for me, I've managed to find a flat for a modest price and moved into it immediately. I've had very little to spend my money on, so money was not too much of a problem; I only buy food, pay the rent, and help mum with the finances. The only frivolous item I've spent money on was an opal drop for my ear. Professor Dumbledore encouraged me to carry an opal with me at all times, and Bill pressured me into getting an earring, amending it by saying that it attracted women. I figured I'd put them together to make things easier. I got that **after** I moved out. With the fuss she makes over Bill, I don't even want to think of what Mum would do if she ever finds out. She didn't even want me to move out, saying that I was too young still.

I lie down on my bed that I bought with my money that I earned at my job. The self-gratification is through the roof.

For the second task, the person that Cedric would miss most was Cho, not Oliver. I haven't heard anything from either: Oliver I haven't heard from since the World Cup and Cedric I've been avoiding avidly. In truth, Cedric has a lot on his hands, juggling the TriWizard Tournament, Head Boy duties, Oliver – if they're still involved, Cho, and Skeeter.

And someone is knocking on my door. At least this person is polite enough and not Apparating right into my flat.

And the knocking continues.

Go away, I'm tired.

There is a slight pause in the banging before it continues.

Sighing, I roll out of bed, catching myself with an outstretched arm so I don't crash onto the floor.

"I'm coming!" I tell the knocking impatiently.

I yank the door open, reveling –

Marcus? That is the very last person I would expect.

I fix him with a glare. This had better be good.

"Weasley," he nods curtly. "I need your help. May I come in?"

He needs my help. This guy has spent most of his life making mine miserable and he wants – needs – my help?

I open the door wider and slam it in his face.

Returning to bed, the knocking continues.

Tough. I'm in no mood to deal with his tomfoolery. Ever.

"Weasley!" he howls.

I turn 180, opening up the door again.

"Look, Marcus, I don't know how you found out my address, and quite frankly, I just don't care. But right now I'm exhausted and can't deal with whatever trouble you've gotten yourself into."

"Hear me out, Weasley! Percy!"

I slam the door again cutting off his desperate pleas. I just don't have the energy for this.

~*~

Cedric is dead.

That just doesn't register in my mind. He's dead. I saw him there, lifeless. I never asked him if he and Oliver were still together. I never asked him why Cho was the person he would miss most. I never –

Bugger.

I need to pay a visit to Oliver, to see if he's heard, if he's ok and not trying to kill everything.

I can't believe it. Dead.

I need to find Oliver; I can't let this sit.

**_I know, I think it will be me._**

He was signed onto Puddlemere United… The _Daily Prophet_ lists the schedules for all of the UK quidditch teams.

_Magpies… Cannons… Puddlemere: London tomorrow at 14:00…_

I guess I'm going to London tomorrow.

~*~

Oliver is sitting on a bench in the locker room, when the guard allowed me in.

"Hello, Ol," I say quietly.

He jumps up, surprised. "Perce?" He's changed.

"Yeah, Ol," I continue the same quite tone.

"I haven't heard of you in forever." Ouch.

"Ministry work." The universal answer, not always correct, but universal. "We've been working that the TriWizard Tournament – "

"Cedric's dead," he states in an expressionless voice.

I wince. I don't know how to respond to that.

"I'm truly sorry – "

"I never told him." I assume that Oliver means that he loved him.

"I – I know."

His head snaps up and his eyes bore into mine.

"No, you don't know," he snarls.

I know I don't. I know that. But he spent seven years of my life helping me and I can't help him the one time he needs my help.

"If there's anything I can do – "

"Get out," he commands flatly.

I stand there, trying to repel his words, willing them to go back in time.

There's nothing I can do.

"Percy, go away!" A tremor passes through his voice.

I've lost him. He's gone. I can no longer relate to him. He's the jock and I'm the nerd.

"Yes," I choke on my self-pity. "If you change your mind – "

"I won't," he clips.

I've never felt so helpless.

Nodding, I Disapparate home, unable to convince him otherwise; he's too stubborn.

*~*

_"I've decided to move out, Alanna," he declared solemnly. _

_"I knew this day would come," she sighed. _

_"Do you wish to go with me? I picked out a nice flat in Kent, near Downe. It's quite pretty and quaint," he offered politely. _

_"No, thank you," she shook her head. "I belong here." _

_"Oh," he said dejectedly, hanging his head. _

_"I will be here whenever you need me, don't worry; it's not like you're leaving forever." She paused, then added, "You **will** visit." _

_"Of course," he bristled. _

_"Good," she smiles, albeit weakly. _

_"Thank you, Alanna," he smiled genuinely. "If I could hug you, I would." _

_"I understand." _

_And he lost his way._

*~*

Mr. Diggory is thinking about retiring from the head of the Magical Creatures Department. Ms. Rigby is retiring. I don't like it; we were close.

Roger Davies was a prefect when I was Head Boy, but that's all I knew him by. He is now my assistant, taking my job as I take Mr. Crouch's. We've become friends of sorts, casual acquaintances. I don't even want to go into the details surrounding Mr. Crouch's death; I don't even want to think about it, because it was my fault. This presents problems within the Ministry, first Mr. Crouch, now Mr. Diggory; it's upsetting the balance. And Mr. Malfoy is taking advantage of the Ministry distress, trying to, discreetly, push Fudge out of office.

Mr Fudge himself is refusing to believe that You-Know-Who and his minions caused Cedric's death. Funny, I never realized what a bumbling idiot the man is, only after Professor Dumbldore pointed it out to me.

I have not heard from Oliver. It's disappointing, but I fear taking a step toward him again. He's still alive, thank Merlin, but isn't playing quidditch; he's riding the bench.

However, at the moment, the impending war is more important than a shattered friendship.

The French Ministry called a meeting of the neighboring countries to discuss the war. As Head of the International Department, I had to, of course, attend it. Only a select few are to attend: Fudge, Roger, myself, and an Auror.

The meeting itself is more mind numbing than Professor Binn's History class and not nearly as informative. Fudge still has yet to recognize You-Know-Who's revival and it's starting to get to me. He attacks anyone who dares to mention You-Know-Who and I still have to figure out why he's attending in the first place.

Roger is quite, going unnoticed in a corner, but alert.

I, myself, am translating for Fudge. The job is getting monotonous: everyone blames the translator. Why do I have to learn everything that comes my way?

"Necesitamos protección por las mujeres y los niños pronto," the Spanish Minister says animatedly.

"We need protection for the women and children immediately," I translate boredly, twirling a quill in my hand absently.

Roger throws me a contrite smile, which I return. Poor kid, just out of school and he has a war to deal with.

"Was sind – "

The rest of the German sentence is lost as all senses deteriorate, leaving nothing but blinding white light in, I'm assuming, my inner eye. And it hurts.

There is a gemstone in the light, the colour of my eyes, a violet-blue.

Everything is very cold and very white and very painful.

Then everything clears; I can see again; I can hear again. And I'm on the cold floor with a face looming over me.

I blink at it, bringing it into focus: Roger.

"Weasley! What a shock you gave us!" He breathes a sigh of deep relief. "Are you alright now?"

"Yes," I state firmly, more for myself than Roger. "Yes, I'm fine."

He offers me a hand and I take it shakily.

~*~

"That wasn't English," Roger states as we prepare for bed in our joined room at Auberge du Loup.

"What wasn't English?" I ask, thrown.

"What you said after your… spill; it was Spanish… Something like 'See, story ben.'"

"Si, estoy bien?" I ask incredulously.

"That's it!" he says excitedly.

"Don't get too enthusiastic, it only means 'yes, I'm fine.'" I'm not fine, though. My stomach is queasy and my head is throbbing.

"Oh. Are you sure? You still look wan and shaky. Your eyes clear rolled back into your head!" I wince. I did not need to know that.

"Why don't you get some sleep, Roger, we have to do this again tomorrow," I dodge.

"Coward," he sticks out his tongue. That's something Oliver would do. He then crawls into his bed and extinguishes the lamp.

I wait until his breathing evens out before heading downstairs to look over my notes for the next day. Not only do I have to translate for Fudge, but I've also been designated to take minutes.

I am able to get as far as my untimely collapse before the 'why's start to pop up.

It wasn't the Sight, I know that, but it was a vision. I've never had a vision before, however it is too late in my life to gain the Sight; that kicks in around puberty, sixteen, maybe seventeen.

I scowl down at my notes as they grin back up at me. Fudge had reprimanded me fiercely, claiming I had fallen asleep.

Maybe I am ill and delirious…

I'm not really doing too well, though. Ever since the vision of that gemstone, I have yet to go two hours without retching and my head is throbbing. The only problem is the contents of my stomach have been exhausted for over six hours. That and the Bile-Reduction Potion I took was disgorged along with the last of my stomach's contents.

Feeling my stomach lurch, I clasp a hand to my mouth, dashing off to the loo to vomit once again.

Maybe I am cursed. Although I can't remember any curses that involve vomiting bile. Sure, there're slugs and other unpleasant things, but not bile.

Returning to my abandoned notes, after rinsing my mouth out numerous times, I find a dainty saw-whet owl, a letter presented on her tiny leg.

"Good evening, little one," I attempt to smile. "Who sent you?" I stroke her tiny neck with a forefinger, amazed that I could probably fit her in the palm of my hand.

_Dragon man. Look be you. _

"Charlie?" Now I'm concerned. _You came all the way from Romania!_

_Yes, Shine is being from there._ She ruffles her feathers dignifiedly.

"That's quite a way for someone as small as yourself." I immediately regret my words. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

_Is forgiven. _

"So what does Charlie want?" I muse, taking the letter from her.

_Hello Percy, _

_ I hope this letter finds you well. _

"Only Charlie could master that irony," I tell her wryly.

_ Dumbledore has just called for a meeting Friday night, for those of our talent and therefore required that you and I attend. I hope you are able to escape the Ministry. _

_ I'll meet you outside of the Three Broomsticks at noon. _

_ See you then, _

_ Charlie _

He wants me to do this… and Professor Dumbledore needs me to do this. I should pack up and head out… Leave a note for Roger and an apology for Fudge… about family emergencies or whatnot. If Wild Mages and whatever Charlie is called are the secret weapon in this war I need to do this.

Today is Thursday; I need to be there tomorrow –

"I thought you told me to get to bed, and now I find you talking to owls." The sudden voice challenges. Roger. "I guess it is true, what the Slytherins were calling you – " Ouch, that was certainly not needed.

Good that he's here, though. This way I don't have to leave a note.

"I have just received an urgent owl from my brother," I explain, gesturing to Shine – I think that's her name… "I will be leaving tonight and I hope that I shall return by Monday. Tell F – Mr. Fudge that I am truly sorry about this and that blood is thicker than water." I catch my words. "No, don't tell him that last part."

Roger chuckles. I don't care. I've been waiting for a chance to ditch work for the longest time; this actually is a welcomed relief.

Ha! Me, ditching work. Who would have thought they'd live to see the day? I certainly didn't.

I scrawl down a quick note on the back of Charlie's letter along the lines of 'be there' and send Shine on her owl-ly way.

"Roger, I need to be packed and gone. Can you handle minutes? I've gotten as far as…. my c – "

"Where you fell unconscious, nearly suffered a concussion, then stated that you were fine?" he interrupts.

"Yes," I glare disapprovingly. "Right there. And do you think you can handle the translating… I know it's not your strong point, but – "

"I've got it covered, even if I can't speak a word of Spanish." That's worrisome, but I need to help prevent a war and that can't be done with bureaucracy, no matter what Fudge thinks.

"Thank you."

~*~

I Apparate right to my flat and promptly throw up. This isn't a good thing. How am I to attend a meeting if I can't go two hours without vomiting? Maybe I'll stop to see Madam Pomfrey on my way.

Of course I couldn't have made it all the way to the toilet before emptying my already empty stomach, I just had to do it all over my bedroom floor.

I sigh and clean it up with a flick of my wand.

Sleeping is going to be very interesting.

~*~

Charlie is waiting outside of the Three Broomsticks as he had claimed.

"Percy!" he shouts, catching sight of me. He runs up, embracing me in a crushing, awkward hug.

"Nice to see you too," I gasp out. "Can I breathe now?"

"Oh. Oops." He releases me. It's nice to see him, though; I haven't seen him in over a year. "So, it wasn't difficult to ditch work?"

"It was… unnervingly easy," I reply. I've done it once, who's to say I won't do it again. And it frightens me.

"And it gets easier with time," he winks. Great.

I glower at him over my glasses.

"Whenever you try to look condescending, you always manage to look constipated," he states matter-of-factly. Considering I haven't gotten that far in the digestive process in the past twenty-four hours. "Percy," he's worried now. "Are you getting enough rest? You look really pasty…" I had little sleep last night.

My stomach flips. Not now, I haven't seen him in forever, not now. I hold up my forefinger, indicating for Charlie to wait as I dash into some back alley and heave. This is starting to get annoying.

"Percy!" Charlie gasps horrified. Yes, I had expected him to wait in the middle of the street as I ran, without an explanation, into the back alley.

I square my shoulders, wipe the bile from the corners of my mouth with the back of my hand, and face him.

"What in Merlin's name is wrong?" he demands, deadly serious.

"I think I'm cursed," I reply meekly.

"Idiot!" he barks. "Have you forgotten all you schooling already? Did you even think to mention it to someone? What other symptoms and how long?"

I've never seen Charlie like this before; he's worried about me, but angry with me as well… And he's not losing his composure.

"A migraine for about twenty-four hours," I reply tiredly.

He scowls up at me, setting his jaw.

"I was hoping to stop inside the pub, but we're going to Dumbledore. Now."

He grabs my arm and practically drags me up to Hogwarts.

*~*

_"I can't stand 'm!" he announced. _

_"Who?" she raised an eyebrow. _

_"Charlie." _

_"Why?" Her brow furrowed. By now those two should have been getting along. _

_He snorted. "Never mind." _

_"Why do you hate him so?" she inquired nonchalantly, but he knew she meant for him to answer. _

_"He hates me. Why else would he do such horrible things to me? Why else does he encourage the twins to attack me?" he asked viciously. _

_"You might not see it now, but he means well." _

_"No," he countered. "No, he doesn't." _

_"When you're older you'll see," she said knowingly. _

_"How would you know?" He clasped a hand over his mouth, realizing the words that slipped from his tongue in anger. _

_"I had a twin," she informed him solemnly. _

_He caught the past tense and came to a deductive conclusion. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring that up…" _

_"That's quite alright, what's past is past and the dead should stay dead." _

_He had no idea what that meant._

*~*

"Gentlemen, a bit early, aren't we?" Professor Dumbledore gazes at Charlie and me over his glasses.

Frowning, Charlie shoves me in front of Professor Dumbledore. "I should think you would know why we're here, Headmaster."

"Let us see what your brother has to say on his behalf." He looks expectantly at me with those bright eyes.

"I think I'm cursed," I mumble, very embarrassed.

"But his symptoms aren't those that match anything I'm familiar with," Charlie jumps in.

"I see," he says gravely, inspecting me over his glasses as if I were some fascinating Muggle object. "And what was it that triggered this, by that I mean what was happening at the time the symptoms started."

What happened? "I was attending a meeting." I should check on Roger to see how he's doing. "And then I – I fell unconscious." I don't want to prolong this, but I really don't want to say I had a vision; it's really embarrassing.

"Mr. Weasley, please do not beat around the bush."

I can't get out this.

"I had a vision."

Charlie gapes at me. Yes, you heard me correctly.

"As I suspected," he muses. School didn't really focus on visions (with Professor Trelawney as a teacher, it's amazing that visions are even mentioned) and those with the Sight are sent to another school to further their learning. So I slacked, didn't bother to learn about visions, and it comes back to bite me in the arse.

"The only way to cure a vision not caused by the Sight, is to fulfill the vision," Professor Dumbledore says simply, as if it were.

I don't know what the vision was telling me, so how can I fulfill it? I want to ask, but that would be insolent.

"But now, Mr. Weasley, please escort Mr. Weasley to the infirmary. Poppy will know how to alleviate some of your symptoms." Professor Dumbledore's eyes sparkle with humour.

"Yes, sir," Charlie says tersely, marching me out of the Headmaster's office.

~*~

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but there is nothing I can do for you," Madam Pomfrey informs me stiffly.

I'm having a wonderful week and things seem to be improving even more. Such is my luck.

"Are you sure?" Charlie asks anxiously.

"I thought I instructed you to wait outside," she glares at him. "One would think after all these years you would want to stay away from this place, Mr. Weasley."

Charlie grins benevolently. "You know me, always thinking up ways to get sent here – But Percy needs something. Look at him!"

"I can see him quite plainly, Mr. Weasley…. I can give him a nutrient shot to replace the vitamins he's lost," she stares at me in thought. "I suspect his lightheadedness is from malnutrition…. Have you eaten anything in the past few days?"

"No, ma'am," I whisper suddenly very tired, "not since Wednesday night –"

She growls softly in the back of her throat, probably angry that I hadn't told her sooner. She then runs around opening cabinets until she finds what she's looking for: a long, sharp, glaring needle.

I hate needles.

I loathe needles.

I abhor needles.

And such is my luck.

Madam Pomfrey prepares my arm as I dig into my other arm with my nails, peeling the skin in a lovely crescent pattern.

"You're still afraid of needles," she sighs, stabbing me.

I bite the inside of my lip to keep from saying or screaming anything unconventional, looking to Charlie for support. He, on the other hand, is having a nice chat with… I can't see who it is – Fred. He's talking to Fred.

"That wasn't so bad," Madam Pomfrey coos as she patches up my arm and I stare at my brothers… Where's George?

~*~

My headache subsides as the shot takes affect, although my stomach is still unstable. I might even be able to make it through the entire meeting. After talking to Fred, Charlie has not left my side and refuses to look me in the eye or say anything more than a few clipped words at a time.

People start to trickle in: Professor Dumbledore with a large black dog… Professor McGonogall, Professor Lupin, a few I have never seen before… Snape? What would he be – I'm in the right place, right?

That dog is odd, though… He has a mind just like Scabbers: blank… I don't even know what happened to that rat, all I know is that Ron claims he was eaten.

As soon as Snape takes a seat, Professor Dumbledore stands and starts. As long as I don't have to translate or take minutes, I'll be fine.

"Well –"

The door creeks open and a slim but well built man slips through, taking a seat in between Snape and Charlie around the circular table. He's handsome, I'll give him that, with dark features and olive skin…

He sends me an amused smirk.

I finger my earring nervously. He knows me… I can't place him… I'm not that bad with faces, names yes, but not faces.

"Mr. Flint, so nice of you to join us," Professor Dumbledore smiles kindly.

Marcus. That's Marcus?! No, no – more importantly, why?

Marcus nods curtly.

"I assume you all know why you're here," Professor Dumbledore starts. I don't but I'm not about to say so. I just assumed that this was about those of my talent. That doesn't include either Snape or Marcus. And that dog keeps eyeing me. I've never seen an animal react quite like that before – "We are well aware of the loss of Hogwarts' dynamic duo, but I fear the only way to win back Mr. George Weasley – "

George?!

I flick my eyes frantically to Charlie. His eyes tell me he'll explain later.

Anything could have happened to him. Anything!

Marcus catches my eye, throwing me an arrogant smirk that says he knows and won't tell me.

"As for Mr. Weasley, here – " I jolt back into my mind; I've tuned Professor Dumbledore's voice out. That's brilliant. "Ah, it seems I have your attention mow."

I fight the flush as amusement creeps into his voice. How much time has passed?

"As for you, Mr. Weasley, you have a quest ahead of you."

A quest? What the – I've gotten into the bad habit of tuning people out; it comes from listening to Fudge dictate all the time. I could slap myself for being so careless.

Ouch! No need, Charlie's taken care of that.

I glare at him for hitting me.

"Mr. Weasley, you know what you have to do, why don't you take your brother with you." Is he talking to me or Charlie? And that dog is still curling his lip at me. "Now everyone, hop to it! We need to get one step ahead of Them."

The adults are the first to dissipate, leaving Marcus, Charlie, and me.

"Weasley," Marcus says abruptly. "Can I speak with you alone?"

Both Charlie and I turn to him, eyebrows raised.

"Percy," he rolls his eyes.

Charlie nods to me, "I'll be waiting outside."

He doesn't know about Marcus' past; if he did, he wouldn't leave me alone with him.

As soon as the door shuts behind Charlie, Marcus asks,

"Why wouldn't you help me?" He's changed. He's not as calloused and brutal as before, but, if I remember correctly (which I probably don't), he's more sarcastic, but he's definitely mellowed out.

"Marcus, you spend seven years making someone's life a nightmare, complete with the corresponding bruises, and they most likely will slam a door in your face when you show up out of the blue."

"It's called Apparating," he exasperates.

Ha, ha. That was a joke. Too bad it wasn't funny. Only Oliver can do that –

Damn, I've got to stop that.

"You do know your quest right?" he drawls. That was random.

"Pray tell, what is my quest?" Two can play this game.

"To find the Dominion Jewel."

Say what?! He can't be serious!

"Marcus, the Jewel is gone, there is no such thing anymore."

"Tsk, tsk," he waggles a finger in my face. "Weren't you paying attention while Dumble-bore was speaking?"

"He said that I had a quest and that I know what to do?" He's just messing with my head. Mind games. That's all. Nothing more. Did I say that he's not as cruel as before? Well, I was wrong.

"And do you?" he prompts.

No, I don't; I'm completely at a loss. "Of course I do," I exclaim, insulted that he would think otherwise.

"You don't even know what happened to your brother!" he sniggers. "That's so rich!"

"Now that you've had a nice laugh at my expense, I believe my brother is waiting for me."

I leave without looking back, even when he calls, "Nice earring!"

Charlie is indeed waiting for me like he promised.

"Perce? What was that about?"

"Nothing," I respond perhaps too quickly.

He raises an incredulous eyebrow. "I was referring to the meeting, you had this weird blank stare after Dumbledore said George was – You didn't even hear your quest. I'm going with you, no negotiations."

It must be the vision messing with my head. Odd, though, my stomach hasn't revolted in the past – what time is it – I glance at my watch – Four hours?!

No, no, that only took a few minutes.

I'm not liking this.

" – right?"

Huh? Charlie's been talking and I caught none of it.

"Perce? You still with me?"

"I'm sorry, I spaced out – "

"You could say that," he snorts.

Right after he mentioned something happened to George. "Where's George?"

"In the infirmary," he says gravely. That would explain why Fred was there…

"What happened to him?" Hysteria is starting to creep into the edges of my resolve.

"Do you really want to know?" he tries weakly.

Why else would I ask? "Yes."

Taking a deep sigh, he leads me to the infirmary.

"You need to see it yourself."

He opens the door to the infirmary, allowing me through before him.

Fear.

Madam Pomfrey frowns at us, but allows us through to a room I never knew existed.

As the door opens a stark white medical room is revealed.

Ron is sitting dejectedly in a chair. He doesn't even turn to acknowledge our presence. He just stares at the bed. He needs a haircut; it's shaggy and long enough to get in his eyes and do little else. Thin wire frames outline his sad, wan eyes. Since when does Ron need glasses?

There, levitating centimeters off the bed is George. At least I think it is George. He has so many tubes in him, it's difficult to tell, but his red hair is a giveaway even if it is stringy and limp. Mum will have little difficultly telling the twins apart now.

What am I thinking? My stomach leaps into my throat (thankfully not its contents).

"What happened?" I choke, but it comes out as an incoherent garble. I clear my throat and try again.

"He was mind-raped," Ron answers flatly, keeping his eyes fixed on George.

Mind-raped?! A very limited amount of wizards have that power. And fewer would use it.

George could not have been attacked within Hogwarts; he wouldn't be singled out like that. He would have had to have been doing something risky, daring, and probably for a laugh. I knew that the twins would get hurt in their endeavors, but I never though they would become terminally ill, comatose.

If Ron is reacting like this –

"How's Fred?" I suddenly want to know.

"He's suffering," Charlie replies grimly. As to be expected. Those two were almost inseparable; it's weird to see one without the other. But they are separate people and are able to function without the other present. "And he seems to have undergone some brain trauma."

Um… ok. Brain Trauma? As in sympathy pains or as in their minds were connected like so many believe?

How does Charlie know this and I don't?

"How are we going to help him?" I plead, desperate to earn my way back into my cut off family.

Ron tears his eyes free from George to stare at me blankly. Yes, Ron, I am capable of loving my family.

"Dumbledore just spent four hours explaining that…" Charlie's eyes never leave George's body. " **You** are to retrieve a priceless jewel – And I'm going with you. As for everyone else, let them handle that, eh?"

"Wouldn't Bill be more apt for retrieving jewels? It is his job." I furrow my brow.

Charlie and Ron drop their gaze and I think Ron is grinding his teeth.

"What happened to Bill?" I demand.

"Bill… he…" I really should have stayed in closer contact with my family. "He's missing. No one knows where he is."

Shite. Is there anything else I should know about my blood? "What about Ginny?"

"Ginny's fine, bastard," Ron seethes. "You just waltz right in after being absent for a year and expect everything to be just fine, no problems here! It doesn't work that way, Percy; there's a bloody war going on!"

"Calm down, Ron," Charlie sooths for me. I don't know how to respond. "He would have no way of knowing. Just like I didn't until I asked. Of course he knows about the war. I pulled him out of a conference in France directed towards preparation for the war."

I thank Charlie with my eyes.

"Maybe," Ron jumps up from his chair and stalks up to me. "If he got of from behind his blasted desk, he would – "

"He's pivotal in the war effort, Ron," Charlie's voice booms. "Everyone else is working for it, but what Percy does affects the entire outcome of the war."

Ron sinks back into his chair.

"That's right, Ron. Harry and Percy are the ones everyone's after, along with three others. You can hardly blame Harry for anything he does, so don't blame your flesh either."

"He's not my flesh," Ron denies quickly and bitterly.

"I can't change your mind, Ron, but I can change – "

"How is he pivotal?" he interrupts.

"What I tell you doesn't leave this room," Charlie states flatly. Ron nods, slowly. "He's a Wild Mage and therefore the only candidate on our side able to possess the Dominion Jewel."

Ron and I gape at him in disbelief. Ron because he never had suspected me to be anything more than an occasional nuisance, me because I'm to possess the Dominion Jewel… just like Marcus had explained.

Why couldn't Marcus have just been playing mind games?

I sigh.

I have no luck.

~*~

After all these years, I still love the owlery. The owls have changed, but that's it. It's still secluded, still friendly, and still humanless.

I've written a letter to work, explaining a family emergency has come up and that Roger can handle things for me. I haven't taken a holiday yet and now is as good a time as any.

"I knew you'd be here." Oliver?

I whirl around.

"Marcus." The name isn't growled, but there's still contempt laced throughout.

"Who else? You certainly weren't expecting Wood?" he sneers.

A Tawny owl near me hisses and I feel a growl forming deep in my throat.

"Why? Why do you insist on following me?" I try not to sound desperate. I try desperately not to sound desperate and it doesn't work.

"You're not the only one with a letter," he rolls his eyes, waving a slip of parchment.

I glower at him.

"You look pale, Weasley, have you been eating?"

I continue to glower at him.

"Unless you've become bulimic…"

I cringe… I haven't thrown up in the past… really long time, that's a good sign.

He saunters up to a Little owl and ties the letter to his foot, whispering in his ear.

What – _What did he say? _

_Is being for greasy-hair. _

Snape…

"So, Weasley, you figured out you're bi yet?" he asks casually.

Have I figured – "WHAT?!" I sputter. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about?"

"That must mean 'no'," he leers.

Ick.

"I bid you good day." And he sweeps from the owlery. His manor, his poise, it's just like Snape's.

I want answers, no more mind games. Professor Dumbledore will dance around it, Professor McGonogall will purse her lips, and Snape will scowl. Charlie might have the answer.

To Charlie I go.

But first, to owl Roger with instructions and an apology to Fudge.

And I'm not bi.

~*~*~*~

TBC

Wee! That was fun! 

Thanks muchly to my reviews!

Mira: Sorry, this update wasn't as quick. *blush* Hmm… transforming in front of Marcus… Well, he sorta does something like that, but not quite – *shuts up* 

Demeter: Hmm… At least one snog between Oliver and Percy…. I think I might be able to squeeze that in, but no promises. 

Niamh: I think this chapter answers your question, however, there are still more scenes with Oliver to come, that I promise. 

Kimagure: Thank you. I really love and appreciate your enthusiastic reviews. ^-^ This is kinda nosey, but is your name from "Kimagure Orange Road"? Sorry for prying. 

GayRon: Thanks so much! I hope this chapter lives up to the other chapters. 

Cariad: Yeah, I'd imagine Oliver/Cedric would put one off if one had previously written them as brothers… but thank you. ^^ 

Green Eyes: Is this soon enough? 

Spintwin: Thanks! Ah, yes, many people wanted it to be O/P, including my beta. -_-; Hee, hee, I had fun with the twins. ^___^ Don't worry, Percy also thought that Oliver was talking about him during the conversation, too. And I haven't given up on this, not now that it finally has a plot!


	8. Chapter VIII

All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. And all rights and other stuff to The Lioness Quartet and Wild Magic are copyrighted trademarks and property of Tamora Pierce and Random House. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* And the title was borrowed from a Savage Garden song, The Animal Song, so that belongs to them and the same disc applies. 

**Pairings**: eventually Percy/Marcus, but no more Cedric/Oliver  
**Contents**: Angst, Slash, POV, it's kinda General, well, except for the slash bit  
**Spoilers**: Yup. Books 2 and up.   
**Summary**: Percy may be a freak, but that's not always a bad thing. That, I think, is the worse summary I've ever come up with.  
**Status**: Incomplete  
**A/N**: I'm really sorry about this chapter! It's so damn flat! On a side note, the actor to play Tom Riddle, Christian Coulson, reminds me more of Marcus than Tom…. Go fig. And just so ya know: I hate this chapter!!!!!!!!!!!! 

_*~* Indicates time change _

~*~ Indicates scene change 

**_Indicates the voices in Percy's head… rather his recalling past dialogue_**

Superstars and Cannonballs 

I stare down at the crooked picket fence. When I cross this I will no longer be of my own anymore, I will be a part of a who– Yeah, that's a romantic notion.

"C'mon, Perce!" Charlie calls patiently from the front stoop, knocking on the door. **He** had no problem crossing the threshold. 

"I – I'm coming." I run to join him. That wasn't so bad. 

The door opens to reveal Mum, wielding a peeler in one hand and potato in the other. Both drop as she realizes just who was banging on her door. 

She hiccups her happiness as she engulfs us both in a bruising hug. Now I know where Charlie gets it. 

"Hi, Mum," Charlie smiles, pecking her on the cheek. 

"Mum," I echo guiltily. 

"Author!" Mum cries, releasing us and herds us inside. "My boys are back! Come, come, have tea. I was just making dinner. You two must stay for that as well." 

"Of course we can stay for dinner," Charlie smiles cheekily. Charmer. "But that's it, we need to get going." 

"Oh?" Father asks in a hushed hurt voice. 

"Yes, Dad," his smile falters slightly. "Classified, that." 

"So that's why Percy has taken time off?" I know Father means that in an understanding way, but it still hurts. 

"Yes, Father," I intone quietly. I don't really know how to really speak with him, even after all these years we still need to get into superficial arguments to just communicate. 

"So what is this classified information?" Mum asks sternly, looking up at me. I shake my head. "An earring?! Percy! Going just like Bill!" 

"It's for function, not fun, Mum," I blush. There goes my mother's respect. 

"How can such a silly thing be useful?" She flits around, examining the opal drop hanging from my ear. 

"Another son of mine, gone to the other side," Father shakes his head sadly. 

Charlie and I frown at him. 

"I don't understand," I furrow my brow. 

"Of course not, you still haven't yet realized – " 

"Arthur! Stop scaring him! He's a guest, let him speak of classified information," Mum chastises. "Not of his sexuality." 

Eep! 

I look to Charlie for help. He avoids my eyes. 

"So tell us about your lives," Mum prompts, scurrying off to make tea. 

"Percy and I must be off shortly, Mum," Charlie calls after her. "We can't really tell you much more than that," he continues darkly. They understand. 

Mum hurries from the kitchen, tea set in hand. 

"Percy," Mum speaks up, "about that earring – " 

"Mum," I explain, picking up a cup of tea. "Professor Dumbledore wished for me to carry an opal on my… person at all times, this was just the easiest way to do so." 

"Oh." She sounds crushed. 

Sorry, Mum. 

"Charlie?" She tries hopefully. "Is there a woman in your life?" 

"No, Mum, no prospective grandchildren," he smiles around his own cup, albeit unsteadily. 

What about Bill? Wouldn't he – First he needs to be found. 

"I see," she says sadly. 

"Now that we've dragged the mood to the ground, I think it's best if Percy and I head off," he states as he puts down his half-finished cup of tea. 

"Charlie – " 

Before Mum can finish, Father interrupts. "Molly, there is nothing we can do but sit back and watch our sons. We will help them in other ways, but sheltering them is not one of them." 

Charlie nods briskly to Father in appreciation and we head off with a strangling embrace from Mum and a firm handshake from Father. We'll take them up on dinner later. 

*~* 

_"What's wrong with Ginny?" _

_"She's depressed, she needs advice, and not just advice from a painting." _

_"I received all of my worthwhile advice from a painting," he pointed out. _

_"Flattery will get you no where," she responded slowly. "However, Kel has mentioned that she needs human contact; surely you're not becoming lazy and expecting someone else to do it." _

_"No," he denied quickly. _

_Ron viewed Ginny as a burden; the twins cared, but spent most of their time teasing; Bill and Charlie were too old and didn't spend much time at home; and Molly and Arthur were too busy trying to keep everyone in line and a roof over their heads. _

_He was the only one without a valid excuse._

*~* 

"Ok," Charlie sighs. "I think we've got everything in line." 

We arrived in Nepal last night by way of Muggle transportation as not to be traced. We are to head up into the mountains, just the two of us and a Muggle guide, tomorrow at daybreak. So tonight we just relax in our inn and I am to keep Charlie from getting drunk and dragging a serving wench up to **our** room. 

I've never been this far away from home before; it's rather scary and in a way, wonderful. Wonderfully scary. 

"The gear should handle a gale, blizzard, whatever the weather does up here. Magic, however, we're going to have to live without. I've been asking around and somehow magic is impaired up here, unfortunately I was unable to discover if that encompassed Wild Magic and Animagi Magic. Not to mention we wouldn't want to do anything that's traceable to us." 

Charlie takes a sip of his rum and pumpkin juice. 

"No magic?" I echo softly, fiddling with my empty bottle that used to hold sake no bata. 

"None at all," he shakes his head, leaving a red strand in his eye. 

Living like a Muggle under extreme conditions. It's a shame Father isn't here; he'd love it. 

"Would you like another?" I look up to the busty severing girl. She's pointing at the bottle in my hands. 

"Um, yes, please, I'd like another." 

"I would too!" Charlie adds boisterously, pinching her bum. 

If looks could kill – it wouldn't have done any good because Charlie wasn't looking at her face. 

"Please ignore my brother," I apologize, "he doesn't know when to stop." 

Charlie's look, on the other hand, would have killed me as he silently asked an incredulous '**I **don't know when to stop?' 

The serving girl manages to escape while Charlie is turned. 

"That was rude, Percy," Charlie scowls. 

"We're here to help George, not to get a woman in your bed," I respond primly. 

"Yes, of course you wouldn't know about a nice shag, virgin boy," he counters scathingly. 

"Charlie, please," I implore. 

The girl returns with our drinks, and Charlie doesn't make a pass. 

I sip my sake no bata, waiting for Charlie to say something, anything. 

He doesn't and I find myself listening to surrounding conversations. 

"A blizzard is setting in," a man mutters in Chinese. "The Mountain knows someone is after it, so she conjured a storm to keep her safe." 

"It must be the Jewel. The guardian knows and is not happy. When this one ends there will be another one to take its place," a woman responds. 

"I feel sorry for the man to challenge the Mountain," the first man says grimly. 

Shite. 

"Percy?" Charlie asks hesitantly. "What is it? What's going on?" I hate how my emotions play clearly on my face. 

"Blizzard," I clip, not elaborating on the storm's nature. 

"Shite," he echoes my thoughts. "We need to get that Jewel before George – and the war – and just shite!" He slams his fists onto the table top, turning the attention to us. 

"My brother is drunk," I announce in Chinese, so Charlie doesn't understand and everyone else does. "Please may him no mind." 

There are a few murmurs before everyone returns to their own conversations. 

"What did you tell them?" he narrows his eyes suspiciously. 

"Never mind that. How are we going to get up there in a blizzard?" 

"Wait until it stops, then I – I don't know, let's sleep on it." 

~*~ 

Three days later the snow is over a metre deep and shows no signs of stopping there. 

Another day and there might not be anything to save back home. 

Charlie is still asleep and snoring loudly and it's definitely keeping me from sleeping. So are many other things. I've been idle for too long and am beginning to become restless. 

I need to head up there. Now. 

The easiest way to get up there in any weather is to become an animal, preferably mammalian. Of course I haven't transformed into anything other than a screech owl and a raven and ok, once a snidget, but I don't want to remember **that**. Basically only birds. But flying is impaired by those dratted winds. So, I can try or I can wait for everyone at home to die. And to make matters even worse, I haven't transformed in over six months. I don't even know how long I can hold the transformation. I don't even know what to transform into. 

But I'm going to need my wand, a robe, about twenty cloaks, for when – if – I find that Jewel… and someplace to put it. 

I have absolutely no idea how I'm going to find this Jewel. 

Disrobing, I stuff my clothing into a small pack I'll carry on my back. 

A cat, maybe? A wild cat, small enough to be nimble, but large enough to cover ground quickly. 

No, no, not a cat. 

A graphorn, mayhaps? Yes, a graphorn will do. 

Think graphorn thoughts… It doesn't help that I've only seen one once… in third year… for all of three minutes. But they repel spells and I might need that for whatever the Mountain can dish out. That coupled with the opal drop – if it stays during the transformation – ought to be able to protect me. 

I wish I knew what I was doing! Why is it that teachers never teach us the valuable lessons in school? 

**_Idiot! Have you forgotten all your schooling already? _**

Shut up, Charlie. 

Graphorn… graphorn… 

~*~ 

It took me a fair time to transform correctly, and even more time to get the pack on my back, but it makes me feel better to have it. 

I sneak quietly out of the room, trying not to disturb Charlie. He won't be too please with me in the morning, but I need to leave now, without him. As much as I care for him, he would be a hindrance. 

I pass the bar on my way out. The serving girl is asleep on the counter, an empty bottle of hard liquor dangling limply from one hand. 

Poor lass. At least she doesn't have to worry about the war. Yet… That's why I'm here and nothing will happen with me just standing here staring at her, thinking. 

I stealthily move past her, to the inhospitable outside. 

The blast of cold, humid air is certainly not an optimistic turn; it's still blowing and snowing. 

One padded foot in front of the other and I'm on my way to nowhere. 

~*~ 

Sometime later, I can only guess the hourage, my feet are freezing and matted with tiny balls of packed snow, my fur is soaked through and I can barley see out of my eyes as protection from the wind. And I'm just plain miserable. 

I hope you're happy, Mountain! 

The storm has let up some, not much. All I want is to lie down and sleep. Preferably away from the cold and wet. However, I have no such luck and continue to trek up a mountain. I hope this is at least in the area of the Jewel. 

I should have waited until dawn so that I could have gotten some bit of sleep. 

~*~ 

It's finally dawn when I am able to find a small, tucked away cavern facing away from the wind. The first stroke of luck I've had in quite some time. 

Settling down a good ten metres from the mouth, I gnaw the teeny bits of packed snow from between the pads of my feet. 

The hairs on the back of my neck bristle. 

"Well, well, if it isn't the Wild Mage," a startling voice purrs. The tone is pure seductive silk so dangerous there will be a noose around your neck so quickly your head will spin. 

My ears fall flat against my skull and a growl escapes from my throat unbidden. 

Only one person has a voice like that and he should be back at Hogwarts. 

Without my instruction, my body returns to its original human form. 

"Marcus," I snarl huskily, accustoming to a new set of vocal cords. 

"I've been waiting for you, Wild Mage." 

The bastard grins. 

~*~ 

_"It's been a while, Alanna," he said quietly. _

_A shy smile crept onto his face. _

_"You've changed," she observed. "A good change or a bad change?" _

_"I don't know," he responded truthfully. "I left for a little while and everything here changes as well." _

_She bit her lower lip ruefully. _

_"What is it?" _

_"Ginny's really needed you." _

_He lowered his eyes pitifully. "Has anyone else noticed?" _

_"No, no one seems to have noticed," she admitted. _

_"Do you think that it would be too late if I went to visit her after my… mission?" _

_"Depends on the duration of the mission." _

_"I – I don't know, but I have to travel clear to the other side of the world," he sighed. _

_"What do you need in China?" she wrinkled her nose. _

_"Nepal," he corrected. "I trust you to not be tortured into telling a secret, but not a word even to the other portraits." She nodded. "I'm going after the Dominion Jewel." _

_Her face darkened. _

_"What is it?" he frowned. _

_"Be careful of the rock apes." _

_"The what?" he asked dubiously. _

_"But you can handle animals… Be careful." _

_"Thank you, Alanna." _

*~* 

Suddenly I realize that I'm not wearing anything. Maybe it was the biting cold or Marcus' scrutinizing gaze or both. But now I feel rather exposed. And cold. 

I pull out my robes and yank them on. 

Where are my glasses… Oh just sodding wonderful, I left them back on my nightstand. At least I still have my earring, not that it does me any good. 

"What do you want, Marcus?" 

"No," he replies, "not your Marcus." What is that supposed to mean? "I am not human and therefore not the Marcus you know," he explains. Uh-huh. Yeah. "I am an Elemental known as a Chitral, a magic before your magic, possessor of the Jewel you seek." 

Magic before my magic… Would that mean animagi or wizarding in general? "How did you – " 

"Your mind," he answers simply. "This is just a chosen form, plucked from your mind." 

**_Plucked from your mind…_** That would mean that – 

"Do not dwell on the how, Wild Mage, it is not something you can fathom," the non-Marcus says, lacking the condescending sneer only the real Marcus can pull off. It's weird. "Now, you seek the Jewel. How do you plan on winning the Jewel from me? How do you think you will control this – if you are able to win it?" 

I hadn't come up with a plan for that yet. I was hoping to sleep on it. 

I shouldn't have bothered to do this. I don't even remember why I was so dedicated – 

George. 

George is why. But that vision – 

"You must consult **your** Marcus about that," the Chitral explains. "All these emotions bore me; let us see if you are worthy to possess my Jewel." 

Oh, shite. 

"What do you wish for me to do," I whimper. Yeah, that's good; just show weakness to the adversary. Brilliant move. 

"You wished to not feel so helpless, to be able to do something of good merit. Yet you continue to feel that you do not belong to the house you were chosen for, for you lack courage and bravery, although you possess loyalty." 

I swallow hard. 

"Prove your loyalty, Wild Mage." 

Um… 

Just how am I going to be able to do this?! 

No, I will not panic. Calm down, Weasley, calm down! 

He grins. "Why do you love who you do?" 

Eh? 

I frown. Of all the trite, clichéd, banal– I can't think of another synonym. 

Oh, Merlin, he really means for me to answer this! 

Why do I love – who? I loved Penny, but I broke that off because of Marcus. And now that I look back on it, our relationship was rather shallow. No, that wasn't love – that was – I don't know… but not love. 

Umm… I don't know who – 

My family. I – I love my family. This whole mishap is to save George. 

I just don't know why I love them. 

I'm not going to win this, I can feel it. 

"I – we, I mean – " 

"Yes, Wild Mage?" he smirks daringly. 

Prat. When I get home, I'm going to hex the real Marcus for this – 

Why did this Chitral take Marcus' form? 

No, no, I can't stray: I need to answer the question. 

I usually answer questions quickly. When I was in school – I'm not in school anymore and I can't win this. 

"The way your mind works is delicious," the Chitral purrs. 

This is what I get for trying to save my kin. 

I don't understand this. I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for a family. I didn't ask for a mad-stalker – 

I've got it… not really. 

Might as well try it. 

"I – I don't know," I whisper to my feet. 

The Chitral eyes me bemusedly before approaching. 

Oh Merlin, I've failed. 

"To admit that you do not know the answer takes an enormous amount of courage and bravery, Wild Mage." 

It would figure that the test wasn't in the answer. 

"You have proven that you do possess the courage and bravery you seek." Does that mean I'm worthy? 

"Oh yes, that," the Chitral muses. "You will find what you are looking for to your left." 

I turn left to see reflected light. That had better be the Jewel. I turn back and the Elemental is gone. 

That really had better be the Jewel. I don't want George to die because of a shard of glass. 

Upon closer inspection, it is the Jewel, or a jewel – the color of my eyes. 

Just like in my vision. 

It had better be real and not some hallucination. 

Reaching out, I poke it warily with a forefinger. It's cold. The white lights explode again from behind my eyes, leaving me – 

~*~ 

Warm. 

**Warm**. 

I thought I'd never be warm again. 

I don't want to open my eyes. The warmth might disappear. 

"Percy?" The voice is gentle, worried, and male. 

I crack an eye open. 

"You're alive!" Charlie trounces me, embracing me tightly, then crawls off me quickly. "Don't you **dare** do that **again**! Don't you value your life?!" 

No. I value other's lives, not my own. 

"The Jewel?" I rasp. 

"Under your pillow." 

I dig under my pillow and my fingertips connect with a cold stone. It chills me, expelling the warmth. 

"You received an owl," Charlie informs me gravely. That's rather random, after telling not to kill myself. "I'm almost positive it has to do with the news." 

We had only been in Nepal four days before I took off. "How long have I been asleep?" I ask sharply. 

"Six days," he worries his lower lip. As soon as the words leave his mouth, my bladder tells me that he is correct. 

I sit up quickly and realize that my muscles aren't functioning any more. 

"Stay down!" Charlie orders. 

"Bathroom," I state. 

"Oh." He helps me to the loo and back again. 

I feel better, but my muscles are still mush. 

He hands me a small piece of parchment. It looks innocent enough. 

_Weasley, _

_ Fudge has been assassinated. Ministry is in disarray. God, Percy, come back now! Malfoy is trying to take over. _

_ Davies _

Merlin.

What can **I** do about it? 

"You know about Fudge?" I interrogate him. 

He nods solemnly. "This is war, Perce, hundreds of Muggles are killed each day. Three cities have fallen in the days we've been here." 

I've got to get back. 

Floo. 

"Charlie, do we have any floo powder?" 

"No, but I can get some. And you need food," he adds. 

"Yes, mum." 

He grins. "You can't save the world if you starve to death first. You need to fight and you can't do that without any strength." 

I smile back weakly. I didn't ask for this. 

~*~*~ 

TBC (Those three dreaded letters) 

Sake no bata is kinda, sorta, a variation of butterbeer. Sake is rice wine, while bata is Japanese for butter. Hey, they're in Nepal and I don't know Nepalese, so shoddy Japanese will have to do. 

The Chitral scene is… cheep, corny, and I hate it, but that's the best I could come up with! *cries* 

I promise the ninth part is a lot better… and it will answer some nasty ickle questions. 

Thanks to my reviewers!! 

Demeter: Yes, Percy is special. Of course that's another word I use for insane, but eh. Don't worry about George, Fred, Bill, or Percy for that matter… There should be a better explanation in the next two chapters. Sorry for the vagueness. Draco, on the other hand, I'm not so sure about his part… but he will be there. Somewhere. 

Shaman Nameless One: Thanks for the links. ^-^ And no, it's not finished yet, but I'm getting there. Sorta. There will be more of Oliver, but, sadly, he won't be paired with Percy. But don't forget, this whole thing is from Percy's point of view. 

Fornlornhope1865: Yes, poor clueless Percy. Someone will clue him in about Marcus, but it won't be Charlie… And there will be some brotherly bonding coming up. Sometime. 

Kimagure: Thanks! *huggles* Don't worry, there will be more of Oliver, and I've been held at wand-point to ensure his happiness. Yeah, I enjoy torturing the ones I love. ^^ But never fear! Things will get better… sometime… 

Green Eyes: In that last Ron scene, Ron was rather vicious, but in another scene before that, he wasn't. As for those questions, they will both be answered within two chapters, promise. 

Mira: Yes! I'm converting the masses to appreciate the wonderfulness that is the Marcus/Percy ship! Well, Percy did, kinda, maybe transform in front of Marcus. Too bad it wasn't actually **Marcus**. *ecchi smirk* But there are still more chapters to come… (aka wait for chapter ten…) 

Alasia Moonstalker: Thanks! Hmm… I try to be original, but sometimes it doesn't work. *sigh* *pokes Kimagure for publishing that Charlie fic, A Dragonish Discussion, here, a few days before I published this fic on POWSN* (Brilliant fic by the way, go read it! As well as her other stuff. Yum… Artistic!Percy…) 

Futon: I'm working on more, promise! And thank you! ^^ *tries to think of something constructive to say* Thank you! 


	9. Chapter IX

All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. And all rights and other stuff to The Lioness Quartet and Wild Magic are copyrighted trademarks and property of Tamora Pierce and Random House. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* And the title was borrowed from a Savage Garden song, The Animal Song, so that belongs to them and the same disc applies. 

**Pairings**: eventually Percy/Marcus – It's getting there, really!  
**Contents**: Angst, Slash, POV, it's kinda General  
**Spoilers**: Yup. Books 2 and up.   
**Summary**: Percy may be a freak, but that's not always a bad thing. That, I think, is the worse summary I've ever come up with.  
**Status**: Incomplete  
**A/N**: I love this chapter, or the end, more like. *smirk* But I don't like that this is becoming the kind of fic that I can't stand: drama. *sigh* All explanations will be in the next chapter. Well, most explanations. 

_*~* Indicates time change _

~*~ Indicates scene change 

**_Indicates the voices in Percy's head… rather his recalling past dialogue_**

Superstars and Cannonballs 

It was a week before I could walk again properly on my own, and I returned home the next day. The floo didn't work because of the magical impairment caused by the Jewel, so I was forced to take a very slow Muggle transport again.

And today I face Hogwarts. 

I left Charlie and took the Jewel. Charlie will also return by Muggle transportation. The Jewel not only kept me from using floo, but also dealing with other things. It's not major, just inconvenient. I can't Apparate. And King's Cross was **very** interesting. 

And I'm bringing this Jewel to a magical school?! 

I must be nutters. 

But then, after I'm bound, magic will be possible – I hope. On the lighter side, no Death Eater will be able to use magic either. 

I just stand there, staring at the stone fortress, unable to step into it and face the faculty. 

"Mr. Weasley, so good of you to return." I'll be able to identify that cold drawl for the rest of my life. Snape. 

"Good day, professor," I bid quietly. "I hope I'm not too late." 

"No, Mr. Weasley, you are late, but not too late. Albus is expecting you and we mustn't keep him waiting." Snape looks victorious. 

Me, I feel like I've been run over by a heard of hippogriffs. 

~*~ 

"Where is your brother, Weasley? Had to leave him at the Roof of the World?" Marcus sneers as Snape leads me into Professor Dumbledore's office. It lacks his normal edge. 

I ignore him. 

"You have the Jewel," Marcus whistles, awed. 

I take the Jewel from my pocket, placing it importantly on Professor Dumbledore's desk. 

The Headmaster smiles. "The binding will take place at once." 

As soon as the binding takes place, I need to return to the Ministry to help sort things out, then get back here and help Ginny sort things out. 

"Can I – What are the affects of the Jewel – like magical impairment and the like?" I ask quickly. 

"That we can only tell with time," Professor Dumbledore replies soberly. "It depends greatly on the handler and how much control and power he possesses." 

I'm sorry, I was mistaken; I thought I was **done** being the experiment. 

"Mr. Flint," Professor Dumbledore says swiftly. "Please prepare Mr. Weasley for the ceremony." 

Marcus nods and stands, expecting me to follow. 

"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Flint will do you no harm," the Headmaster reassures. 

I stand and he brushes past me, and then leads me from Professor Dumbledore's office. I fell like I'm being lead to be Kissed. Oh dear, wrong metaphor. Yet, if the Headmaster trusts Marcus, he shouldn't do anything too… permanent. 

"Scared, Weasley?" I hear him vaguely. 

I don't answer. I hope Father is holding up at the Ministry and the others are doing – 

"Weasley, we're here." 

'Here' is Snape's office. 

"Don't worry, Severus will join us momentarily," he coos mockingly. Since when is he on a first name basis with Snape? "In the mean time, relax. The torture will come whether you relax or not; so just relax." That is certainly not comforting. 

He takes a seat behind Snape's desk, propping his feet up on it. 

I sit in a corner, my back to the wall and my front to the room. What? I still don't trust him? 

"You're different from in school," he says suddenly. 

"Ok, so are you," I reply carefully. He's actually docile… Creepy thought. 

"That's not what I mean, Weasley," he tsks lightly. "I mean your whole value scale is out of whack." 

I have no idea what that means to him, I'm not sure if that's an insult or not – 

I have changed… 

"What are you after?" There, all back to normal. 

"After? I'm just making small talk before your torture," he leers. 

"Must you constantly refer to it as such?" I growl. Nope, no change here. 

"Everything changes, Weasley, not even **you** are above that," he challenges. 

This 'conversation' has come to a close with a bang, or rather, a sting. And we sit there in silence until Snape joins us a while later. 

If that man has only one thing, it's presence. When Snape entered his office, it was so quietly, but it was painfully obvious it was he. 

"Mr. Weasley," he addresses curtly. "Mr. Flint." He glares at Marcus until he removes his boots from the desk. "Is Mr. Weasley prepared?" 

Marcus sits up, announcing, "Yes, quite ready." 

Ready? Marcus did absolutely nothing! Nothing! 

"I see. Mr. Weasley, if you will please follow me. Mr. Flint, please bring up the rear." 

"And such a darling rear it is," he drawls. 

I snap to him, gritting, "What did you say?" 

"Mr. Weasley, I assure you that Mr. Flint said nothing, so if you will please refrain from petty squabbling, we can put an end to this war." 

He sounds more than tired. 

~*~ 

He brings me to a spacious room I never knew existed, with a high arched ceiling and not a single bit of trimming. There, Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonogall, and an unknown witch that was at the meeting before are waiting for us. 

"Is he ready?" Professor McGonogall asks tightly. 

Snape nods tersely. 

I'm not ready! Why is everyone making up my mind for me?! 

Professor Dumbledore presents the Jewel on a talisman, muttering under his breath. Professor McGonogall and the other witch join him in the muttering, positioning themselves to his left and his right. 

Snape and Marcus stand firmly at my sides. 

It's white, just like when I – 

~*~ 

This is a nasty habit I've gotten into, even more so than tuning people out at important times. Must I pass out at every minor event? 

"Awake or just not wanting to be awake?" 

"Neither, Marcus, leave me – " Merlin! The rush of power – what **is** this? I've never felt anything this powerful before, I can actually feel everything on the isle – rocks, and trees, and – 

I want to use it. 

"I've been bound?" I ask sounding drained of all energy. Odd, though, I don't feel weak at all. 

"Yes," he says softly. I have grossly understated my earlier assessment: he's changed a hell of a lot. 

"Then what's wrong?" I ask slowly, carefully. 

"Your body couldn't handle the power," Marcus says casually, as if he had expected it. "So you fainted. Much like if you hold your breath your body shuts down so that you can breathe, you know?" 

I nod. Like some child at the market demanding a sweet from their mummy, saying they'll hold their breath until they die. 

He thinks I'm still a child. How dare he! 

Propping myself up into a sitting position, I study him. 

"That's not what's wrong." 

"You're brilliant, Weasley," he says dryly. 

"It took you long enough to figure that out." I don't like my voice sounding so tired. 

He just looks at me as if he's about to tell me someone died. 

"What is it, Marcus?" I demand through clenched teeth. 

"I'm not at liberty to say – " 

Snape bursts through the door. Quite literally, I'm surprised it's still on its hinges. 

"We are needed, Mr. Flint. It's pressing." 

Marcus shoots up. "Aye, sir." He then turns to me murmuring, "Sleep, Percy." 

*~* 

_"I'm constantly tired, Alanna, I don't know what's wrong with me, but I know it's not healthy." _

_She hmmed thoughtfully. "You're getting enough sleep – " He nodded. " – And you're exercising – " He nodded again, slower this time. "And you haven't been hexed – Then I have absolutely no idea. Have you seen a Healer?" She knew, though, oh how she knew. She had seen it often enough on the battlefield, right before examinations, or right before MidWinter. _

_Stress. _

_"I would, I just don't know what to say; it does seem rather vague to say 'I'm chronically fatigued', doesn't it?" _

_"Percy, you've got to start taking better care of yourself, even if it means asking for help. Now, do see a Healer." _

_"A Mediwitch," he corrected. _

_"Mediwitch," she echoed. _

*~* 

"Wake up, come on! Bloody wake up!" 

I open my eyes and there Marcus is, personal space be damned. 

"Merlin," I groan. I've done it again. 

Marcus shoves my glasses in my face and I look up at him bewildered. 

"Come on, we've got to get you out of here," he commands. 

"Now," I gripe, head spinning lightly as he drags me up. Whoa, head rush. 

"You really should gain some weight, Weasley, you weigh practically nothing…" He growls in frustration. "Can't you help yourself get to your feet; you're a deadweight." 

I thought I didn't weight anything. 

"What's the rush?" I complain as he roughly succeeds in hauling me out of my nice, warm bed. 

"You're too groggy to comprehend the why," he tells me plainly, there's no malice in his voice, just urgency. 

"'M not," I grumble in protest. "Ok, maybe I am." 

I slip out of his grasp and crumble to the floor. 

Boom! Or rather – Plop! I fall down. 

I giggle froths up from my throat. 

"Get up," Marcus hisses. 

I giggle again. 

"Good God, you're drunk!" he exclaims. 

"I didn't drink anything," I tell him earnestly. 

He struggles again to lift me up. Stops. Sighs. Then scoops me up as if I were the child he was referring to earlier. 

I bury my head in his neck. He smells nice, clean, like he just bathed. 

It's absurd because it's Marcus and he's being… human, civil, I don't know. 

Now if only he would make to room stop spinning. 

He stops his dead run. He was running? Slowly he looks at me through strange black eyes. His eyes are so… different. Just like mine. I should have noticed this earlier. 

"I shouldn't be doing this," he admits, "but if it will get us there faster…" 

He looks at me, really looks at me – And the hallway comes to a complete stop. 

"What did you – " 

He tsks me. "You were the best of the best at school and you haven't realized that – Shite. We've got to get out of here. Now." 

He drops me unceremoniously and takes off, hand clasped securely in mine so I am forced to follow or lose an arm. 

I'm utterly turned around by the time he comes to a stop; I don't know how to get back or where, exactly, I am. 

I'm at his mercy. 

"You are to stay here until we receive word from an authorities wizard," he tells me. Huh? 

"I don't understand." 

"I'd assume you wouldn't," he replies arrogantly. 

Damn his cockiness. 

"Care to fill me in?" His leer is nauseating. I swallow hard, but press on. "How long have I been out?" I glower. I don't like the patches in my memory. 

"After the Jewel binding, only about ten hours. After you fell back after **that** about thirty six hours." If he weren't Marcus I'd say he looks sheepish. 

"Why?" 

"I… hmm…" he searches for the right terminology, "overdosed you. Sorry." He doesn't sound the least bit sorry. 

It's a good enough excuse for the time being. 

"What is happening?" I don't like being out of the loop, especially when everyone assumes I'm in it. 

He sighs and runs a hand though his dark hair. 

"Is it really that bad?" I ask meekly. 

"Worse." 

"Ok, how about another plaguing question: why are you hanging about me?" 

"Oh, that." He knows he has the power over my knowledge. "Because you can't handle the power from that pretty gemstone on your own." So I'm weak now. "Well, you were drunk on that power and you were spewing it in chunks all over the place. It was amusing, but Dumbledore would have none of you making an arse out of yourself." 

"Leaving you bereft, no doubt," I comment acidly. 

"That's no way to treat your savior," he responds feigning hurt. 

"I assure you that I do not need saving and even if I did, you wouldn't be my first choice." 

"One never **chooses**." 

"Must you always have the last word?" I demand hotly. 

"Must you always battle for the last word," he retorts snidely. 

It's useless to bicker. 

"This is a horrible mess," I state miserably. 

"It's called a war," Marcus responds without sarcasm. 

"Marcus, please explain to me everything," I plead. 

"It's long, complicated, and you wont like any of it." I've never seen him with such a serious expression before, not even studying for NEWT's right before I jump- can't think of that now, it's irrelevant. 

I nod slowly. 

"I guess then I should start from the beginning. The very beginning…." His voice becomes monotones. "Three years ago, your sixth year, when you were studying for your animagus talent with McGonogall, I was studying – Bugger, that's really aggravating. This place isn't safe anymore, we've got to get out and now or we're dead – in the permanent way." Death is permanent. 

"Why do you keep sprouting that spontaneously just to get out of explaining?" I scoff. 

"That's mighty self-centered of you, but I can't have you die just yet," he smiles with bright mockery. "So follow me, and do it quickly." 

*~* 

_"I thought I wanted to understand how the mind of a human works," he proclaimed sadly. _

_"What do you mean? You're giving up?" she challenged. _

_"No!" He cried out in denial. _

_"Then what do you mean?" she inquired. _

_"I mean that it's far too complex and the diversity is far too grand for anyone to even have a hope of understanding. At least that's what I've learned." _

_"You have now?" she mused. _

_"How did you come to this insightful conclusion?" _

_She was laughing at him, not aloud, but laughing nonetheless. _

_"Mind games," he clipped. _

_"Mind games?" she responded doubtfully. _

_"Mind games," he nodded. _

_"If you say so," she dismissed airily. _

_"I'm not quitting!" _

*~* 

"We should be relatively protected here," Marcus announces. He says this **after** casting a series of charms and counter charms. "No one should be able to detect the wards I've put on this place. And if they can, well, they won't know it's me." 

He smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. 

"What is 'this place'?" I ask, desperately trying to comprehend the situation. It's just an old, broken, wooden shed. 

"The Shrieking Shack." 

I suck in air. This place is haunted. In a bad way. 

I fiddle with my earring as Marcus gives the place another once over. 

**_Ask your Marcus about that vision. _**

Well, it would kill some time. 

"The earring suits you," he muses. "Just like I said it would." 

"Marcus?" 

"Hmm?" He hums, taking a seat on the dusty, broken floor. 

"What do you know about my vision?" I blurt. 

"What about it?" he returns nonchalantly. 

"What sent it?" 

"Oh. Is that it?" 

"Answer," I clip. Must he be so calm about this? 

"I did," he shrugs. 

"Oh. Well. That makes it better," I goad. 

"It should," he shrugs again. "Would you prefer some hell-bent dark wizard to lead you to your death?" 

I stare down at him, then sit down myself. Rather unceremoniously at that. 

"No, you'd have to be daft to let **your** mind go unguarded," he scoffs. "No, Dumbledore wouldn't let such a pretty waste of space to be raped, now would he?" Funny, he let that happen to George. 

"What are you saying?" 

"Dumbledore needs you," he spits as if the words themselves were sour. 

"How – how so?" I hesitate. 

"He'll tell you soon enough," Marcus sighs; he's as exhausted as Snape. "But that's not all. Oh no, far from it," he laughs uncontrollably and it's too cynical. "However, I don't think I should be explaining this all – to you – at this time." 

Tease. 

"Marcus, I implore you: please explain everything to me." If Dumbledore trusts him, I suppose I should at least try. 

I trusted Mr. Crouch as well. 

Marcus glares. "I am not an old coot tied to a bloody pathetic bint with no control over her own child!" he bellows in exasperation. "And I'm damn insulted you would make any connection between us!" 

I – I didn't say anything aloud – 

Oh. 

Merlin. 

Oh, Merlin. 

No. 

I refuse to believe that – 

"Surprise, Weasley," he grins, waggling his eyebrows, but it doesn't show in his eyes. There's no malice… just fatigue. 

"So, you're saying… that you are protecting my mind from – " 

"The Big Bads," he finishes. 

"You're psychotic," I state flatly. 

"You're in denial. And no, it's not psychotic; it's psychic, thank you very much." 

~*~*~*~ 

TBC… (Again with those three letters, geez!) 

Thank you to Rouge *huggles* for suggesting Marcus as a psychic, way back in part one's beta stages. 

Snape as Marcus' mentor came from a line where Harry thinks Snape is going to steal the Philosopher's Stone: "Harry didn't see how he could – yet he sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds." Ch13 PS 

And thank you to my reviewers. 

Kimagure: I love you! Can I have your child? Oh, yes, my response: Well, here's more. Poor, dense, Percy. Someone will clue him in. Sorta. I don't know what I'm going on about, but I know it involves Oliver. 

Demeter: It's a middle. I think. Marcus has more interesting revelations for Percy. Well, at least two more. 

Alanna Moonblade: I'm working on it. I already have the rest of the story outlined, but that doesn't mean anything. However, I do wish to finish at least one of my stories. 


	10. Chapter X

All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. And all rights and other stuff to The Lioness Quartet and Wild Magic are copyrighted trademarks and property of Tamora Pierce and Random House. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* And the title was borrowed from a Savage Garden song, The Animal Song, so that belongs to them and the same disc applies. 

**Pairings**: Percy/Marcus   
**Contents**: Angst, Slash, POV, it's kinda General  
**Spoilers**: Yup. Books 2 and up.   
**Summary**: Percy may be a freak, but that's not always a bad thing. That, I think, is the worse summary I've ever come up with.  
**Status**: Incomplete – Still…  
**A/N**: Sorry, this chapter is mostly dialogue. 

_*~* Indicates time change _

~*~ Indicates scene change 

**_Indicates the voices in Percy's head… rather his recalling past dialogue_**

Superstars and Cannonballs

I just blink at him, refusing to believe what I should have pieced together years ago. 

"I'm sorry, I misheard you," I laugh forcibly. "I though you just said you were psychic." 

He raises his eyebrows; he's amused, but not greatly. 

I sober. 

"Start at the beginning," I tell him stoically. 

He sighs. I don't know if he's going to hit me or tell me. 

Maybe both. 

"Your sixth year," he starts, "when you received training from McGonogall – " 

How does he – 

"I'm a psychic, Weasley – actually more of a telepath. Anyway. While you were playing with little fuzzies, I was training with Severus – Yes, we are now on a first name basis." 

"But I didn't even – " 

"You did before," he cuts me off quickly. 

Oh, yes, I remember I did. 

"Don't think, just listen," he snaps. He sounds tired and cranky. "Damn right I'm tired: I'm controlling your pretty little gemstone, because you're unable to do so on your own." 

I flush. I'm too weak to even do anything by myself. It was Marcus' mind games that kept me safe. That's odd. 

He growls in frustration. "I'm not saying that only **you** are unable to control the Jewel; I'm saying that no one can control it without outside help. At first. Once you're accustomed to the enormous amount of power, then you can begin to control it on your own." 

This is too much. 

I squeeze my eyes shut. 

He's right, though. I don't like to admit that, but that doesn't stop the truth. 

I can only feel a small trace of power that was there before. I feel empty. 

All that trouble I went through just to get that power stolen. 

Marcus shifts and the floor creaks loudly. 

I open my eyes. 

"What is it?" I frown. 

"That Chitral took my form," he says. 

"Yes, it di- Don't go digging around in my mind!" I reprimand hotly. 

"Oh please, you were advertising it," he returns with mild scorn. 

"Well, go away or shut your mind off, you never used it in school anyway," I return bitingly. 

"Grow up, Weasley, we're all going to need that." 

We are, are we? 

"What do you mean?" I narrow my eyes suspiciously. 

"Whoa! That was wicked." Marcus shifts closer to me. 

I scuttle away. "What was?" 

"Your eyes, the pupil split, just like back in your sixth year," he responds enthusiastically. Leave my eyes alone. 

"Can you please answer the questions?" I growl, feeling an unnerving and overwhelming sense of déjà vu. I bow my head to shade my eyes. 

"I can," he smirks, leaning against the wall. 

"Will you?" Fool, get your English straight. 

"Since you asked so kindly," he drawls. "Who was the one to fill in for Fudge if anything were to happen to him?" 

"Crouch, of course." Everyone knows that – 

Merlin. 

I took Crouch's place. I'm gone. Roger took my place. That's why he begged for me to return. I wish that had been sorted out after Crouch died, but Fudge had put it off. Fool. 

"Roger is the stand-in! When's the inauguration?" I inquire anxiously. 

"Next week." 

I sink my head into my hands. 

"I rather detest politics," I announce quietly. 

"It doesn't matter if you **like** them or not," he rolls his eyes. 

He never did answer my question. "Quit straying." 

He scoffs. "There's much more. A lot more. But most importantly – to you, that little interlude before the NEWT's - about that 'lust potion'." It's about time he answered that. He chortles. "That was a test from Severus, to see if I could control a mind, and well, you were passing by when he explained the mechanics, so he chose you as my test subject." 

I can't help but feel hurt. I know I was furious with Marcus and myself at the time, but it was the only thing that I've ever really done that was outside the rules. And it wasn't real. 

"Aw. Don't feel bad, Weasley, Severus never gave me an order as to how – it was my intent on having you shag me. But, alas, I was not trained enough at the time even to control a puny mind such as yours." 

My face is very hot, with both anger and embarrassment. 

"I was right!" I crow. "It was rape!" 

"I would never have done it if you didn't want me to," he counters vehemently. 

"That's just it, I **didn't** want you to!" I shout back. 

"Oh yes," he smiles as if remembering some fond memory, " you did want it." 

"I think I would know what I want," I bark. How dare he! 

"No, you wouldn't." 

I don't want to think about this; it's too much. 

I feel so helpless stuck in a hole while the world crumbles, let alone being stuck with **him**. 

"Whether you want to be stuck with me or not – you are and will be until this blows over," he bangs his head against the wall. 

I wince. 

"What is 'this'?" he never did explain it, just avoided it. 

"Hogsmeade is under attack." He closes his eyes. 

The bottom of my stomach falls out. 

"You can't be serious," I tell him in understandable disbelief. 

"Why would I joke about it? I'm just as in peril as you are, if not more." He opens one eye to see my expression, which is somewhere between incredulity and sheer terror. "I told you that you wouldn't enjoy any of it." 

Oh Merlin. There's more. 

I groan, running a hand through my grimy hair. 

Ew. 

The last time I bathed was back in Nepal. 

I feel the weight of eyes on me. And since I'm here with only one other person… "What is it, Marcus?" 

I look up at him. 

He's got this funny look about him; I can't quite place the emotion. His eyes are glossy, like he's looking at something that isn't really there. 

"Marcus?" 

His eyes slide back to normal. 

"I want to kiss you," he announces blandly. 

I very unsubtly move as far away from his as I can at the moment, which is not far enough. 

"No, Marcus, no," I choke around the lump forming in my throat. 

He has a hungry look now, but he stays where he is. 

Where's my wand? I'll need it to fend him off. 

I pat down my person, not finding any bulge that might pass for a wand. 

"You don't have it; we left in too much of a rush," he supplies dryly. "Dumbledore has it in his office, it's been there since before you were bound." 

Before I was bound? I've gone that long without a wand? When did he – when we left, he brushed up against me. 

"Besides, a wand isn't going to keep me from getting near you." He smirks. 

Right. That. 

"So, why did you ask? You knew I would refuse." 

He pushes himself off the wall and saunters in my direction. 

Cornered. 

"Because it would be rude of me not to," he purrs. 

Cornered. I am very, very cornered. 

He's going to attack. 

I press myself as far against the wall as I can without becoming one with the wall. 

Small. Very small, then I can pass him. 

"I promise you'll do this on you own free will." 

It takes me awhile to comprehend what he said. 

That's the disgusting part: my own free will, indeed. 

"You had the choice the first time." He's still advancing. 

I want to be far a- 

There is a small clatter and a swoosh and Marcus is huge, looming over me. The puzzled expression on his face is classic. 

I snap my beak. 

O…K… I have a beak. 

Ha! I'm a – whatever I turned into, I don't have a mirror, but I have wings. 

I can fly away from him! 

I dart past him, settling on top of the broken doorframe. 

Marcus leans back with a wry look on his face as he twirls my glasses between his thumb and forefi- 

Oh. 

I can't transform back without exposing myself. 

"Not only are you nearsighted, but your foresight is severely lacking." A conceited grin spreads across his face. 

I can't believe how unbelievably stupid that was – I didn't even want to transform – 

The Jewel. 

"Now, what do you say you come back down, return to your human body, and I'll tell you all about the meeting you… missed. All for a simple, little, chaste kiss," he patronizes. 

No, I don't say that. 

I say that he'll play mind games and get his way. I'm sure it was his fault I missed the meeting in the first place. After all, it was after I looked at – 

It really was his fault! 

He sent the vision, with its side effects and then made me space out – 

"A minor oversight on my part," his voice cuts through my thoughts. "I meant to alleviate the symptoms, but I ended up doing more than that. 

"Now get down here so I can tell you about it. I refuse to cramp my neck… Or you can stay up there and just happen to lose concentration…" 

He wouldn't dare. 

"Don't put it past me, Weasley," he warns. "I feel like a loony conversing with a Snidget." 

Ouch. 

"Shame I was a Chaser, not a Seeker," he tsks. 

The feeling of being small slips away and I am in my body again. 

Marcus smirks. 

Prat. 

And then gravity takes over and I land in a tangle of limbs. 

"Well," Marcus says breathlessly, "I can't say that's how I expected it, but… " 

I scramble off him and make a mad dash for my robes, hastily yanking them on. 

"Aw!" Marcus puts as I gingerly pluck my glasses from his hand, fully dress, albeit haphazardly. "I was enjoying the view." 

I flush hard. Good thing I'm clothed so Marcus isn't witness to the Weasley Full-Body Blush. 

"Full-Body, eh?" he muses. "I'd like the see that sometime." 

"Marcus, please stop toying – flirting – whatever you're doing with me and tell me what I should know," I growl to cover my embarrassment. 

He sighs and sits down against the wall again. I sit against the opposite wall. 

"Where to begin…?" He taps a forefinger against his chin pensively. 

"George." He seems to be the root of everything as far as I can see. Which isn't really that far. 

"No, not George: William Weasley." 

"Bill?" 

"Yes, Bill," he repeats impatiently. 

"Bill," I echo. 

"Yes, bloody Bill," he snaps. "Do you want to know or not? I seem to think not because **you** are the one always getting **me** off track." 

"I'm not the one! If – " 

"Yes! Who the hell else? Now stuff it and let me finish what I've started." 

The double meaning to those words is not of comfort. 

"Around four months ago Dumbledore received an owl from Egypt, from you brother. It was along the lines of 'something big is happening – a magical disturbance – a magical plague.'" 

"What do you mean by 'magical plague'?" I don't like the sound of it. Mr. Binns never spoke of anything like that. 

"By that I mean that it depleted witches and wizards of their magical abilities, leaving them Squibs and therefore susceptible to the Dark Lord. No doubt you can deduce its origin." 

Bill! I hope he's not a – 

"Squib? No. That is where your other brother comes into play." 

George couldn't have been hit with the plague – he doesn't have enough power to help Bill – And they told me he was mind raped. 

"He wasn't mind raped," Marcus assures. Assures! He just contradicted all I've been told! Ron said that – 

"Your other brother was not allowed to know all of the information – for his safety or some such rubbish. Now stop thinking and let me continue," he reprimands. 

"Stop thinking?" I repeat incredulously. "That's like saying stop breathing. Why don't you just tune me out?" I snap. 

He smiles ruefully, "As wonderful as that theory is, it's just that, just a theory. I have to live with the voices in my head." 

That sounds disturbingly like me, only animals guard their thoughts more closely than humans. They know something's out there, we don't. I just didn't until now… 

"Hypothesis," I state, vacantly. He raises his eyebrows. "If it hasn't been proven it's a hypothesis." 

"If you're finished with the technicalities…" 

"Sorry." For thinking. 

Marcus lifts a wry eyebrow. "Now, George – who wasn't mind raped – somehow got a hold of that letter, and he wanted to help Bill, as is natural for your clan. 

"He and his twin researched ways to transfer magic. And George tried it out. However, being vastly under trained for that particular field, it didn't go smoothly. His power was strong enough to eventually get through to Bill, so he no longer a Squib. But. George is suffering from backlash, as well as sustaining Bill's magic." 

"Oh, that's it?" I sneer. 

"No, that's not it," he mocks. "That's just the beginning." He smiles cruelly. He must be bipolar. I swear it. 

I wait for him to continue. I wait for a good chunk of time for him to continue. 

He's just staring off into nothing, a vacant look taking over his face. 

George risked his life for Bill. Fred helped him. I doubt they would do the same for me. 

Marcus groans. "Oh, please, stop feeling sorry for yourself and focus on the war. God knows we've had enough of it." 

God? He's from a… Muggle family? 

"Contrary to popular belief, I am not from a Death Eater household, nor a troll family," he spits. 

I want to say that I've never thought so, but I try not to lie. 

Marcus snorts. 

I still want to know about George and Bill… and Charlie and Fred and Ron – It's odd to see him turning into the thing he hated most: myself. And then there's Ginny. I still haven't gotten a clear story on her. 

"Ask them yourself, twat, unless you're too frightened to do so. Don't ask me – " I didn't. " – or yourself." 

"I'm not frightened," I shout before thinking. "They just don't like me," I continue quietly. Hate me, more like. 

"You're making excuses, not doing something to change that." He sounds soft. 

Ew! Soft Marcus. Paradox. He's all bones, not soft at all. 

I hate my thoughts. 

I flush. 

"As entertaining as your thought process is, I'm going to have to teach you something to guard your thoughts," Marcus decides. "Not until after, will I explain all else." 

I lean back against the wall and resign myself. 

"Unless you want Death Eaters to read and rape your mind. I'm not the only one, you know." One what? 

"Is that a requirement for being scum under You-Know-Who?" I snort. 

"No," he says, insulted – as much as he can be insulted. "And for God's sake, his name is Voldemort." 

I flinch. 

"It's just a name," he exasperated. "He's not going to appear if you **say** it." 

I look at him reproachfully. 

"Or, if it makes you feel better, call him Tom Riddle. He's just a man." A powerful man. 

Tom Riddle… He-Who – Voldemort – 

"Good boy," he smirks. 

I frown disapprovingly at him. 

Tom Riddle – Snake. Sweet Merlin, he's an Animagi Mage! 

"How will I be able to guard my thoughts?" I demand hastily. 

"It's part spell, part will power," he explains. "Only another person can cast the spell. You wouldn't want to go around pointing a wand at yourself, now would you? The spell establishes the shield, you keep it going." 

I nod slowly; I need to start trusting him sometime. 

"Smart boy. Stand up." 

I do so. 

"Will you still be able to read stray thoughts?" I suddenly want to know. 

"Only what you want me to hear. It's a kind of frequency. Just think of me and what information you want me to know and I'll hear you, no matter the distance." 

He's that powerful? 

Wait – I wanted to talk to him in my mind; I must be mad. 

He mutters something under his breath and points his wand at me. 

I screw my eyes shut waiting for the pain. 

There is no pain, though, just a slight pressure in my sinuses. I sneeze and it's gone, well, most of it. 

"Did it work?" I ask tentatively. 

"Yes," he sighs contently. "Blissful silence." 

"I guess so," I concluded wryly. 

"You have no idea, Weasley, no idea." At least **he's** happy. 

"Can you still broadcast things into my mind? You were able to do so, right?" 

"Yes and yes." 

He **is** powerful. 

"Now, about your explanations – why am I in hiding if I'm a weapon?" Not a soldier, an inanimate object manipulated by soldiers. 

"Because you're the **secret** weapon. Where would we be if you died so early on? Not only that, but you have been sleeping for the past few days." 

"That would be your own damn fault," I mutter begrudgingly. 

"And," he continues, "If I let go of your mind you will be unable to control your Jewel." 

My Jewel. 

"Where is it?" 

"My, aren't you demanding today?" He throws me a lazy grin. 

"Marcus," I warn. **_Where is it?!_** I shout in my head. 

He yelps, clasping his head in his hands. He has really large hands. 

Ack! Not thinking about that. 

"Not so hard, Weasley. I can hear you just fine," he sulks, rubbing his temples. 

"So answer," I grunt impatiently. 

"There," he states, poking me in the sternum. 

"It's **in** me?" I squeak. 

"Where did you expect it to be?" he asks dumbfounded by my ignorance. 

I don't know, so I don't answer. 

"Now that you know how to keep your thoughts to yourself, how would you like the truth?" He raises his eyebrows. 

"You mean before that wasn't – " He's been leading me in circles. Prat. 

"Close your mouth," he chortles languidly. "You look like a fish." I snap my mouth shut with an audible click. 

"Now, Bill really did suffer down in Egypt. He wasn't, however, a Squib: he was dead." My eyes bug out. 

"Dead?" I squeak, unable to do anything else other than gape. 

"George really did snatch the letter," he barrels on, "and George really did do an energy transfer of not just magical properties, but life properties. He had to borrow some life energy from Fred - which is why he's suffering. 

"Bill has be rived and is residing in the bowels of the school. Much like our current situation. 

"Charlie is desperately trying to train young dragons to obey soldiers. Ron is being trained as a strategist." All that chess - makes sense. "And the girl – The girl is helping in anyway she can, which means right now, she's assisting Pomfrey with the dead and the wounded." 

I stare at him, slack-jawed. 

It's too much at once. I need to sit down. 

Ok, I'm already sitting down; then I need a headache potion. 

"Whoa." Marcus regards me with mild shock. "Get a grip, you're opening floodgates. Grab a hold of your emotions." He then continues muttering about how reapplying the charm is very, very, unbelievably painful. 

Childishly, I shove all of my emotions at him: shock, betrayal, helplessness, loss, lov– 

Yes, very childish. 

He smiles slyly. He's going to make some snide remark. "At least you can admit it." 

And there it is. 

Act cool, no blushing, no sputtering. 

"What do you mean?" I sound more suspicious than calm and the blush is there, betraying me. 

"That you need your family, more than a building that stood for adulthood. That your dreams are just that. That you need something concrete. That you need **people**. Family. Friends. A possible lover." His eyes bore intensely into mine. 

He understands. He hit me over the head with the news of my family so that he could make me understand. 

"Don't you ever get lonely, Percy?" 

**_Percy? When was the last time you were held? _**

"No, I don't." My voice trembles slightly. Maybe he won't catch it. 

"You're a terrible liar," he scoffs. 

"And pray tell, Marcus, what would **you** ever do with **that** information?" I sniff. My eldest brother was resurrected and he's harping about me telling half-truths. 

"Look, Percy, just because you've graduated doesn't mean that you're an adult, doesn't mean that you have to take on something that you don't want just to prove you can. Don't you think that's right immature?" 

I glare at him as he smiles lightly at me. 

Suspicion. 

"I don't believe any of what you told me about my family," I state. 

"You aren't entitled to believe me, after all, I've given you two stories." He smirks, this time it does reach his eyes. "Which one do you believe?" 

"Neither," I clip. "Neither," I repeat, more for myself than for him. I want to believe neither. 

"One of them you will find is so close to the truth it's painful." 

"I still don't believe you," I reply, starting to become angry. 

"Then don't." 

"Alright then." 

"Alright." 

Silence. 

"Which is the truth?" I blurt. 

"You're incorrigible," Marcus shakes his head. "Just wait and have your precious Dumbledore explain it to you." 

"Please, Marcus. This is my **family**. I don't think I have – have the patience to wait." 

"You've waited a year." Ouch. "I don't see how a few more days could possibly hurt." 

"Days? I will be stuck here – with you – for days?" I snap back into my common sense. "Please." 

He rolls his eyes. "The first bit about Bill was true. And the twins. The second was true about the rest," he relents. 

I don't know if I should believe him or not. He's just playing with me. 

"Why was I not informed? Ron told me himself what happened to George," I challenge. Logic. Think with logic. 

"That's the story he was fed." 

"Enough. Please stop." 

He watches me bemusedly, with ill directed humour. 

"Tired, are we?" he taunts. 

"Yes, we are," I reply. "I think that I – " 

Marcus clasps a large hand over my mouth. 

Then I feel it. 

Blue. Like the midnight sky. 

Death hounds. 

I turn panicked eyes to his. 

With his free hand he brings a finger to his lips indicating silence and mouths a very slow 'later', his tongue dabbing the aforementioned digit with the silent pronunciation of 'l'. 

It gets to me more than it should, helping me forget about the death hounds. In a bad way. 

**_Should I ask the hounds to leave?_** I immediately realize my folly: Marcus would have whispered 'later' in my mind if it were safe to do so. 

It's been too long since the last war to remember, but not long enough to forget. 

His dark eyes blaze and his nostrils flare, but he nods sharply after much thought. 

I smile around his hand and reach out to the death hounds. 

Death hounds are not the most trustful of creatures and enjoy more than anything a good kill, even if it involves tracking prey over many moons. However they are not very dominant beasts, so I need only to prove that I am more powerful than they. They live not on the flesh, but on the fear and dread, much like dementors with despair. However, there are many different types of fear, from the knot in one's stomach the night before finals to the I'm-going-to-die-in-an-abandoned-pisshole-with-someone-that-can-read-my-mind. Well, our situation could be worse. 

_I bid you farewell,_ I great. 

_We tear you into shreds,_ one snarls into my mind. 

_Don't be overly confident,_ I return coolly. 

_Sickly human, even one with Folkspeak, is not matching for our mights,_ another one boasts. 

I rapidly scan my memory for anything to prove my dominance. 

And the only thing I can remember is seventh year where Marcus tried to control my mind. They don't need to know about that last bit, just the part about me on top of him… fully aroused… wanting to swallow his entire essence whole. 

I send that. 

Soon after, the blue disappears completely from my mind and I heave a heavy sigh, removing Marcus' hand. 

"They're gone," I say. Mean to say really, however it came out as an incoherent yip. 

"Percy?" Marcus squints at me. 

I narrow my eyes, awaiting a scalding remark, drawing myself up to my full height of – Marcus' knee? 

He clears his throat. "As I was saying, it seems to me that you are in need of self-discipline." 

Oh dear. Please say that I didn't transform. 

With an inaudible pop of my bones, I return to human form. Giving Marcus a full frontal view. With Full-Body Blush. 

"Not bad," he whistles appreciatively as I scramble for my robes. Again. 

*~* 

_"So you're Daine?" he asked hesitantly. _

_"Goddess," the brunette whispered, "Alanna was right." _

_"Right about what?" He cocked his head to the side with interest. _

_"You have Folkspeak," she stated frankly. _

_"Y-Yes," he stuttered, "I believe that's what you call it." _

_"My father was a God, where did yours come from?" she asked eagerly. _

_"I – I don't know," he frowned. _

_"Daine," Alanna chastised. "Not so much, there's still much he doesn't understand." _

_"She's just cranky because I'm having an affair with my teacher," she whispered loudly around her hand. _

_Percy decided that he liked her: she was alive. However, the thought of having an affair with Professor McGonogall was enough to turn him green. _

_"How old are you?" Daine asked quickly. "I'm sixteen." _

_Charlie had a portrait of a sixteen-year-old girl in his room. Did his parents know? _

_"Um…" he stammered. _

_"It's ok, Percy, she's just nosey." _

_"Are you two always like this when you get together?" He raised an eyebrow. _

_"That's cool!" Daine shouted. "Do it again!" _

_"Yes, we are," Alanna confirmed. _

_Percy backed up slowly, wondering, where exactly his Folkspeak came from. _

*~* 

Marcus is looking at me exhaustedly, but excitedly. 

"We've won," he whispers, a slight smile tugging at his lips. 

"Won? The battle?" 

He nods confidently. 

"We still have Hogsmeade?" I press. 

"Bleeding Christ!" he explodes. "Of course we did! We can finally leave this pisshole – unless you'd like to stay?" 

I'm on my feet instantly and instantly stumble back down, thanks to a cramp in my calf. 

Marcus snorts as I massage it out: thank Merlin he doesn't offer to do so himself. 

Great, now I can get back to the Ministry to help put it back together. 

~*~*~ 

Blah! The next update may take a while because of school and all that, but Olly is in the next chapter so that should make it all better. I hope. 

Thank you to my reviewers. You guys are the best. 

Lil'kittie: Thank you very much. I hope this chapter gave you a look into lives around Percy as well as some more insight on Marcus. Oh, and Percy will get some lovin' soon. (If my story doesn't stray from my outline.) 

Obijan: Thanks. As for Marcus being three-dimensional… This fic started as a Ron/Draco but I didn't like it and switched the characters around, so Marcus is modeled after Draco. Sorta. 

Kimagure: I love you. I think that says everything right there. 


	11. Chapter XI

All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. And all rights and other stuff to The Lioness Quartet and Wild Magic are copyrighted trademarks and property of Tamora Pierce and Random House. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* And the title was borrowed from a Savage Garden song, The Animal Song, so that belongs to them and the same disc applies. 

**Pairings**: eventually Percy/Marcus – It's getting there, really!  
**Contents**: Angst, Slash, POV, it's kinda General  
**Spoilers**: Yup. Books 2 and up.  
**Summary**: Percy may be a freak, but that's not always a bad thing. That, I think, is the worse summary I've ever come up with.  
**Status**: Incomplete – Only a few more… I think  
**A/N**: I dislike this chapter a lot. A very lot. Sorry it took me so long to get this out. The next part will probably take just as long to get out.

_*~* Indicates time change _

~*~ Indicates scene change 

**_Indicates the voices in Percy's head… rather his recalling past dialogue_**

Superstars and Cannonballs 

"So you will be back then?" Charlie asks from his bed in the infirmary. He had returned home just in time for the battle and was caught, unprepared, in the middle of it. He escaped with minimal damage. He was **very** pleased when I told him I was cowering in a dank hole throughout the entire duration. 

Although there were few deaths, I was relieved to find none of them were of family or friends of the family. (There are quite a few of those.) And leading the forces were Ron, Harry, and Hermione. Well, not leading, the adults would not permit such endangerment, but they saved our world. Again. 

"Yes, I'll return." I still need to speak with Ginny. After I piece the Ministry back together. 

"Good. I need a brother to relate to." He smiles cheekily. With much effort: the lines around his eyes are too crisp. "No pun intended." 

"Must you constantly joke?" I roll my eyes, while keeping a hand on his arm. I guess I still, after many years of outcast, want to be attached –

Like Marcus said.

"Yeah," he breathes.

"Thank you," I whisper back, squeezing his hand before letting go. "I'll be back before you know I'm gone."

He's asleep. Probably was before I even started.

Madam Pomfrey ushers me out. 

~*~

Marcus was to accompany me to the Ministry, under Professor Dumbledore's orders. Which is quite annoying after being stuck in a hole with him for too long.

However, it's Sunday and the building is not open, except for an occasional intern. I have wasted – spent – I have spent many a Sunday afternoon in the abandoned building.

So. That left two choices: home or Roger.

At home I would have to answer a barrage of questions about the Jewel and Marcus. With Roger I would be asking the questions about Ministry going-ons.

To Roger it is. And my family afterwards.

Oddly enough, I had expected Roger to open the door to his flat.

Certainly not Oliver.

And most definitely not Oliver clad in only a towel.

"Percy!" he squawks appallingly, almost dropping the towel.

I nod. Yup, that does happen to be my name. Oh, by the way, what **are** you doing at Roger's flat?

Marcus snorts in barely concealed amusement.

"Flint?!" he squawks again.

"Who is it, love?" Floats from the bowels of the residence, using Roger's voice.

"Just me, Roger," I call around Oliver, who is unsubtly blocking the doorway with his bulk. "And another," I add wryly.

Things are still sore between us, I see.

"You've returned. Thank God!" he comes running through the flat and seems to be stuck behind Oliver's girth. Not that Oliver is fat, just broad and well muscled. "Well, come in."

Oliver grunts as he removes himself from the doorway, allowing us to pass.

"Would you like something to eat or drink?"

"No, thank you," I reply politely.

"Anything strong," Marcus responds.

I shoot him a glare. I don't want my body – mind-guard? – getting drunk.

Trust me, Percy, one drink will hardly get me drunk. Besides, I need a stiff drink after being stuck in a hole with you.

Prat.

"Sorry, Flint, all I've got it butter beer." Roger emerges from the kitchenette, brandishing two bottles. He's only wearing pajama bottoms, which isn't so bad… If they did not belong to Oliver.

Which means they are more than just roommates.

And yes, those are Oliver's bottoms: he had them at school.

"So, Weasley. Thank God you've returned." Roger pops open the tops of the butter beer, handing one to Marcus and nursing the other one himself. "Malfoy has been picking up followers. An unsettling amount at that. Your father is the only one openly standing up to him. By the way things are going, your father will end up like Fudge."

"Excuse me?" I sputter. Father can't die; he's immortal. Right?

"I'm fairly certain Malfoy hired a crew to assassinate Fudge."

I gawk. "How did you come to this conclusion?"

"No one really notices me there: I'm just the Bloke in Charge of the Country," he shrugs. "Actually, people pay less attention to me now than they did before."

I look awkwardly at him. "Isn't that a good thing? You won't be a target of Malfoy's."

"Have you always been like this?" Roger peers at me curiously.

My "like what" is drowned out by two simultaneous "yes"s.

I sulk.

"How am I to rule if no one notices me?" Oh. Yeah. I'd forgotten about that part.

Marcus.

"Wasn't me, git," he yawns.

I raise an eyebrow at him.

"True, but they pay just as much attention to me. My father should be the one to do this. I'm afraid I only sound good on paper. Ha! But not enough to get into the department of my choice. No. I had to – "

"Percy!" Oliver snaps.

"Yes, yes."

"Why don't you get dressed, Ol, while Weasley and I discuss this further. Flint, you're welcome to join us," Roger offers.

"Actually, I need to speak to Wood about something."

Odd.

Oliver glares at him, and Roger looks pensive before saying, "Weasley and I should probably discuss this in private anyway."

Oliver and Marcus go off together.

A shiver works its way down my spine. Not a shiver from fear or disgust. I can't quite –

Jealousy.

"Sweet Merlin," I groan, burying my head in my hands.

"Eh?"

"Never mind." I peel my face from my palms. "So. Ministry."

"Uh-huh," he nods skeptically.

~*~

Half an hour later we are no more ahead and our ideas were… lacking. So, we – Marcus and I – will see if my father has any ideas. I mean, I've **never** had to deal with mutiny. Ron and the twins don't count.

Only Marcus and Oliver aren't finished with … their pissing match.

" – this noble shite," Marcus snorts.

"Noble?"

"Love," he clarifies.

"He can't – "

"Well, he does. So what the hell are you going to do about it?"

"Is that a challenge?" Oliver growls. "And why the hell are you going through all this? It can't be for the greater good. Oh. I think I know – it's another plot in you Get-In-Percy's-Pants plot!"

Roger coughs politely.

Oliver looks ashamed.

Marcus smirks.

I don't know what to think. Other than not to think.

"I believe we have another social visit to pay." Marcus stands up. "Thanks for the butter beer, Davies."

Roger nods with a bright smile. "Anytime, Flint."

~*~

No one is at the Burrow. And no one has been for quite some time. Please say that they went into hiding. It's better than the alternative.

"Marcus?" I ask delicately. Maybe he can see if they're still alive.

"Hmm?" He's staring out into nothing again.

"Marcus!" I snap my fingers in his face.

"Don't you feel that?" He sounds far away.

"Feel what?"

"All the pain!" he breathes zealously. "It's exquisite."

"Pardon me?"

"I suppose you would feel the absence of pain, due to every creature fleeing the pain."

"You can't mean that," I tell him, keeping my distance.

"It's Manchester."

"Pardon me?" I repeat.

"Manchester is under fire."

"Are my parents safe?" I blurt.

He blinks. "Yeah… They're outside – "

"Don't say where they are!"

"Of course not," he rolls his eyes.

I want to go home. I know I sound fifteen years younger, but I want to go home.

"Again with the controlling of the emotions," Marcus chastises.

"I thought you enjoyed pain," I challenge.

"I do. However, I cannot stand self-pity."

Anger.

"Let's go back to Roger's flat," I suggest stiffly.

"Why not your flat?"

Why not? Because 1) I don't want you there and 2) I need to talk to Roger about some more Ministry things I remembered after we left.

"Because if my parents aren't safe here, we wouldn't be safe at my flat."

"So we'll be safe at the flat of the Man In Charge of the Country?" he asks pointedly. "Plus no one knows you've returned.

"You're as bad as – " Oliver. "Always – " Right.

Dear Merlin, I can't believe I just made that connection.

~*~

"Weasley? Flint?" Roger has an interesting expression of mixed confusion and amazement.

"You're not safe here, Roger," I tell him.

"What triggered this?" he asks bemusedly.

"His parents are in hiding," Marcus responds.

"So therefore I should go into hiding as well?" he raises his eyebrows in question.

"You're in charge. Someone has had to have noticed," I point out.

"Yes, true that," he says thoughtfully.

"Look, go to Oliver's flat, but please go somewhere," I beg. "You're of no use to anyone dead."

"Probably…" The rest is under his breath, but whatever it is has Marcus shaking with mirth.

The two men look at each other, a conversation passing silently between them.

Well then. I'll just stand here like a fool and wait for their conversation to come to an end.

I go to hunt down Oliver.

He isn't anywhere.

I wander back to Marcus and Roger.

I thought of Marcus before Roger. I can't be –

"Good God!" Roger shrieks.

I race to where I left them in the front hall.

There I find Marcus and Roger huddled around a something – a Pensive.

"He was just at practice," Roger murmurs, "just at practice."

Curious, I creep forward and gaze into it.

It's Oliver. Being led off a pitch. By Death Eaters.

That can't be good.

I close my eyes against the sight, blocking it physically.

They have the key to Roger's… influence. And mine, but more so Roger's.

Marcus is probably right; they don't even know I've returned.

Surprise is a sharp weapon.

Merlin, please have something for our side.

"They want me in his place," Roger says in a deadpan.

Marcus catches my eye, flicking them across to Roger and then inclining his head.

I stare blankly at him.

He rolls his eyes with an impatient huff, and then takes initiative. "Back to Hogwarts. All three of us. None of us are even remotely safe anywhere else."

He takes Roger by the arm, leading him out.

I follow, fingering my earring.

~*~

"Percy!" Charlie rushes me as soon as I set foot on Hogwarts ground.

I grunt as he solidly collides with my body, knocking me off balance.

Marcus catches me – us. He catches us.

"Percy, Davies and I are going to speak with Dumbledore and then Severus," Marcus says, looking down at me before letting me – us – go. "I'm sure you two have much to talk about. Oh. And be careful as to what, exactly, you say."

"I've got it, stop babying me," I say scathingly.

"Only when you start acting your own age," he retorts over his shoulder, escorting Roger into the castle.

"When's the wedding?" Charlie slurs, rocking back on his heels.

"What?" I squeak, hoping some semblance of insult was conveyed in that word.

"You look like he shoved a lemon down your throat," Charlie peers at me intently. "What I meant was – and sorry for catching you with your pants down – is that you fancy him, Flint."

I blink at him.

Then start laughing uncontrollably. I don't think I've ever laughed in the presence of family before… I've sniggered, guffawed, even giggled, but I don't think I've down right laghed.

He's known Marcus a fraction of the time I have and it took him a sliver of the time it took me to deduce the same thing.

That can't possibly be fair.

I stop laughing abruptly.

"How have you been?" I divert quickly.

"Ginny patched me up good." He eyes me in suspicion. "How far have you gotten?"

"Nowhere, but not from his lack of trying," I inform him prudely. "Now, how is Ginny?"

"Let me get this… You want him. He wants you. He knows you want him. Why the hell is nothing happening?"

"Charlie, look, as much as I don't enjoy talking about my lack of a love life, I need to know about Ginny's mental health," I grit.

"Why do you want – I'm sorry, **need** – to know about Ginny's mental health?" he inquires, puzzled.

"I received information from a reliable source," I inform him.

"Reliable source, eh?" He arches an eyebrow at me.

"Please tell me, Charlie," I implore.

He sighs.

"Come with me."

~*~

Violet.

I stop.

Charlie glances behind to look at me.

"What's wrong?"

"Dragon," I answer tersely.

He eyes me then resumes walking.

"Charlie," I whine.

"She's guarding Bill," he says quietly.

Oh.

He stops in front of a wall. Most likely there is a room on the other side.

"Draco."

The wall parts and we pass through.

And right under the snout of a Hebridean Black of considerable size.

_Dragonman and Iriseyes,_ she acknowledges. _Hims fretfully sleeping._

"Hims?" I repeat.

"Bill, George, and Fred," he replies somberly.

We enter the main room. There is – it's not really a bed, it's more of a nest – in a corner. Bill is sandwiched between Fred and George.

I blush.

The dragon butts me playfully in the chest.

Charlie raises an eyebrow.

He sits on the floor near the nest.

I sit next to him, idly scratching behind the dragon's ear holes as she contently rests her head in my lap.

"Don't choose now to become testy," I tell her dryly. "The last thing I'd like right now is a fire in my lap."

She eyes me pitifully with her violet eyes.

Charlie laughs heartily. "She's in luuuve!" he sings. "Sorry, sweety, but he's already been claimed."

She snorts, careful not to spew sparks.

I sigh in relief. I really, really don't like fire.

Bill moans in pain.

"He's a Squib," Charlie explains softly.

Marcus was right.

"I just discovered that," I whisper.

"So you know about George as well?"

"I… I'm not sure," I flush. "Not from a reliable source."

He smiles slightly. "But you like him anyway."

"This has nothing to do with Mar – Please continue."

"George tried a risky magical transfusion, now he and George are suffering. However, Bill is doing much better, and once his magic returns, the twins should recover. Hypothetically. Hopefully."

I nod.

"Ron is… well, he's making the most of his situation, adding a temper tantrum every now and then for variety. He strategizes, manipulates people. (He enjoys that much too much for it to be healthy.) He's formed this odd truce with a Slytherin - he won't say whom, but I've got ways to find out, not that it's any of my business – and he receives inside dirt on You-Know-Who. He's been hit really hard by the war and is handling it unnaturally maturely."

I nod.

"Ginny, now… She helps with the dead. I don't know much else."

I nod.

I'll find her later.

Everything is later.

I'll find her next.

"And you?" I prompt.

"That's what Skysong here is for," he pats her muzzle and she snaps playfully at his hand. "She's an experiment, if you will. I'm training her to guard Bill and the twins. I'm going to train others like her to fight along with us in up-coming battles."

I nod.

"Well say something!"

I nod.

"Percy," he growls.

Skysong shifts in my lap.

"I can't say anything constructive; my brain is overloading."

I would still like to –

"How did you know what I knew and what I didn't? I mean after that thing with Bill." I point to the nest.

"Your unreliable source," Charlie says without opening his mouth. In Marcus' voice.

Skysong snarls and bares her teeth at Marcus, her mind flashing purple in annoyance, shifting to red in tolerance.

"Percy, your sister wishes to see you."

_Help me_,I groan. She shoves her muzzle against my chest in apology.

_Dragonman says not to worrying about the Snaky Snake._

Snaky Snake?

I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

Marcus regards me wryly before leading me from the dungeons.

~*~*~*~

T…B…C…

Thank you to my lovely reviewers! 

GayRon: More is coming. Slowing, but it's coming. Promise.

Kimagure: I love you! And sorry about Oliver. He'll be all right. 

Li'lkittie: Yup. Olly was in the chapter. I hope you don't hate me too much now.

Demeter: Breaking away from stereotypes is fun and unexpected. 

Yoki: Yes, it's still going… even though it should have stopped by the next chapter, it continued to go. 

Ganymede: Oh! Marcus likes Percy! 

Obijan: Well, someone needs to make Marcus yummy and it wasn't Chris Columbus.

Xandi: More updates will follow… not so shortly.


	12. Chapter XII

All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. And all rights and other stuff to The Lioness Quartet and Wild Magic are copyrighted trademarks and property of Tamora Pierce and Random House. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* And the title was borrowed from a Savage Garden song, The Animal Song, so that belongs to them and the same disc applies. 

**Pairings**: Percy/Marcus, finally!  
**Contents**: Angst, Slash, POV  
**Spoilers**: Yup. Books 2 and up.  
**Summary**: Percy may be a freak, but that's not always a bad thing. That, I think, is the worse summary I've ever come up with.  
**Status**: Incomplete  
**A/N**: Only a couple more chapters. And the next one includes the first kiss. Finally. (But the chapter as a whole is short. Sorry.) 

_*~* Indicates time change _

~*~ Indicates scene change 

_Indicates the voices in Percy's head… rather his recalling past dialogue_ Superstars and Cannonballs

"She's in there," Marcus points at the door to the infirmary. He then turns on his heel and leaves. 

The door, on the other hand, hasn't moved and, for all intents and purposes, won't. 

Swallowing my fear, I push the door open. 

Ginny is tending a dead man I don't recognize. 

I'm glad I don't recognize him. 

I can't handle this now. 

I turn on my heel and run away before she sees me. 

I make it as far as the door. Marcus is leaning against the frame, pointing back to Ginny, a condescending expression on his face. 

I slump my shoulders and return. 

A defying lump forms at the base of my throat. I dismiss it along with the hollowness in my chest. 

"Ginny?" I whisper hoarsely. 

She looks up from the man, eyes hollow. Not a good psychological sign. Not that I know much about psychology. 

"Percy," she returns slowly. 

"How - " I cut myself off rather than place my foot in my mouth. How are you, indeed. "How can I help?" 

Better. 

"It's ok, I'm almost done." She scurries back and forth, putting things away. 

I glance at the dead man nervously. The hollowness in my chest expands. 

"Would you like to go down and join me - " for dinner, once you're done with the dead man "for some tea?" It will settle your stomach and my nerves. 

"Of course," she accepts politely, smiling. It fades into a frown, "Are you cold?" 

"No," I blink. But now that she mentions it, yes, I am. I fight a shiver. 

"Your lips are blue." 

"I'm sure." 

"You're lying, but tea will warm you up." 

When did the Ginny I knew disappear and leave this cold husk? 

About the time Ron acquired glasses and Bill lost his magic. 

*~* 

_ "Alanna, I still am having trouble dealing with people," he confessed._

_"What is exactly the problem?" She looked at him with a scrutinizing gaze. _

_"I – I can't – well, that is," he tried to form the words. "I don't know." _

_"There is only so much I can do," she snapped. "The rest is up to you, if you can't do it at first, try it again. People will either understand or not. You can't change that." _

_"Wait… what are you talking about?" He questioned shyly. _

_"Life and living it," she explained hastily. _

_She had never been this frank or short-tempered before. Or maybe he just hadn't noticed it. _

*~* 

"You possess the Jewel, don't you?" she states boldly, draining her cup of tea. 

I choke on my mouthful, spilling it back into its cup and coughing tea from my lungs. 

"What makes you say that?" I wheeze. 

"You're different. Just as dense, but different," she says quietly as if she herself didn't know. 

Hey! I'm not dense! Only Bill and I were Prefects. Not – 

"You've changed as well. That - " 

"Is why you're here," she interrupts dully. "Is it too much to handle? I'm growing up. Everyone does – with the exception of George and Fred, and I think after this they will." She finishes bitterly. 

"When was the last time you were among friends? Or outside?" I sound too much like Oliver. Maybe he shouldn't've cared so much. 

"Yesterday," she clips. She sounds too much like me. Maybe I should have cared more. 

"That is exactly what I said when I was exactly – well, a year older than you are. And guess what: I was wrong. I need people." Merlin, I can't believe I just said that. 

"I'm not you." She's becoming angry. 

"You're right. You're not, but you're so sodding human it hurts," I bite back. 

"Percy?" Her tone has completely changed; she's concerned. "Your face is red but your lips are still blue." 

"I'm just fine." I'm still cold. "It's nothing. You're my main - " 

~*~ 

Marcus is looming above me, scowling. 

I did it again. 

"Why?" I croak. I'm warm, but still hollow. I clear my throat. "Why did that happen? This should not have happened again." 

Ginny peers over Marcus' shoulder worriedly. 

"Let me in," he orders. 

My mind? But – "I don't know how." 

"Let. Me. In," he roars. 

"G - " _Go ahead. _

He clasps tightly on my shoulders, nods to Ginny, and then the pressure in my sinuses is back. I assume that's Marcus' presence. Odd how he has wanted to be on top and inside of me for some time. Oh the bitter irony. Its not bad, not that I'd ever say that – 

_Your lack of common sense astounds me, Percy,_ he chuckles into my mind. 

The pressure disappears with a pop. 

Marcus releases my shoulders, cursing colorfully under his breath – into my ear. 

"Weasley, I'm going to escort your brother to his rooms and tend to him. Please inform Charlie of this." 

Ginny nods. 

He then scoops me up and carries me, undignifiedly, out. 

~*~ 

"It was the Jewel," he explains, pacing the room. "It was a warning." 

He brought me to, I'm assuming, my guest room, and unceremoniously plopped me down on the single bed. There are two doors on either side of the room, assumedly leading to Marcus' and Roger's room, respectively. 

And he's pacing. 

"A warning?" I question, struggling to get up, and it doesn't work. "Stop pacing!" 

"Something is killing the actual land – I'd put money on a dark creature, sucking the life out of – " 

"Dementor." 

"Hmm?" 

"Only a dementor could do that." 

"That would make sense," he muses. 

"So, by killing the land, it's killing me?" 

Silence. 

"Marcus?" 

"In theory." 

I bury my face in my hands. 

"You need to activate that Jewel, utilize it to save yourself and our side and – " 

"Marcus, stop. I understand. I want me to die just as much as you do." What ever happened to that cruel bastard? 

"He did something very daft and fell in love." 

Can he still read my – Dear Merlin. He just… Dear Merlin. 

"I need to inform Dumbledore," he announces and leaves hurriedly. 

I never thought I'd see the day when Marcus runs away. 

~*~ 

I am finally able to get up once Marcus bolts, so I explore. Not much else to do. I was right though, my room is between Marcus' and Roger's. Neither is here. Well, Marcus just ran off, but I have no idea where Roger is. My belongings, of sorts, are here, still left over from Nepal. 

The drawers in my nightstand yield nothing but potion bottles, thankfully labeled. I'm going to make use of the Sleeping Draught tonight. 

The door creaks open, and I guiltily slam the drawer. 

"Just me, Weasley, don't go into cardiac arrest." 

"Sorry, Roger," I mumble. 

"What was with Flint? He past me in the hallway looking almost green… You didn't hex him, did you?" He asks oddly, looking at me intently. 

"No? …How did… No." 

"Just checking." He wanders into his own room. I think that's his room. 

"Did you find out about Oliver?" I inquire quickly, following him. 

"No," he answers, not unkindly. 

"We'll find him and bring him back – " hopefully " – alive." 

"I don't doubt that too much." 

Uncomfortable silence. 

He breaks it. 

"What did happen to Flint?" He sits at the edge of his bed. 

"He told me… classified information." 

"That's very un-Flint-like… I told him not to," he mutters to himself. I don't think I'm supposed to hear that. 

"Do you two – Are you two friends?" I scrunch my nose. 

"Well, we were both captains, one chaser, one beater. I found out his little talent then. Him anticipating my moves was a bit of a give-away." 

*~* 

_"Ya must be Percy," the strange man in Alanna's frame said. "She's told me a lot about ya." _

_"Yes, I'm Percy," he said at length. "She's been offering social help." _

_The man choked on his laughter. "Ya can't be serious!" _

_Percy looked affronted. "Of course." _

_"Alanna's the last person ya should ask for social help." _

_"She's been a great help," Percy countered. _

_The man outright laughed. "She hates parties, she has a temper worse than any god, and she's an accomplished liar." _

_"It's not true!" he cried. "How would you know!" _

_"I'm her husband." He bowed. "George of the Pirate's Swoop at your service." _

_"I've learned not to trust anyone with that name," Percy glowered. _

_"George what are you – " Alanna came onto the canvas. "Oh, hello, Percy." _

_Percy looked at her betrayed. _

_"What did he mean by 'accomplished liar'," he asked slowly. _

_Alanna's violet eyes blazed. "I posed as a boy for years to earn my shield, you know that. You should also know that George is not exactly trustworthy himself, being the King of Thieves." _

_Percy's head started swimming. _

_"I won't ask next time." _

*~* 

"Let me see if I have this." Roger nods. "You've been friends with Marcus since school and you've also been helping him with… me? Haven't you?" 

Roger nods. 

"And as a payment, he gave you Oliver?" 

Roger nods again. 

"How long ago was that?" 

"My fifth year. On the train ride home." 

"Are you sure you weren't misplaced in Ravenclaw? That sounds Slytherin to me." 

"Ravenclaw's are actually more vicious than Slytherin, we're just quieter." 

I'm impressed. 

"And how long have you been with Oliver?" 

"Train ride going into sixth year." Wasn't it my seventh year that Oliver and Cedric interrupted Marcus' and my studying? That would make it Roger's sixth year… 

"What about Cedric?" 

Roger purses his lips. 

"You knew," I accuse. 

"Yes. I knew," he swallows hard. 

That's what Oliver was so upset about in the locker room. 

**_I never told him. _**

****

"Do you regret it?" 

"I regret many things," he snarls. 

I stand abruptly. Placing the phial of Sleeping Draught I swiped from the drawer on his bed stand. "I'll be going off to bed." 

"What's this?" he dares, picking up the phial disdainfully between his thumb and forefinger. 

"Sleeping Draught. I'm taking one too. You need to rest in order to face the Ministry tomorrow," I force a smile. 

He doesn't even try. 

~*~ 

The door slams shut. 

"Marcus?" 

He looks defiantly into my eyes. 

"You're right. Dementors. In Kent. It's a dead zone. It's a bloody good thing you were too stubborn to go home." He runs a hand through his hair. 

"What – " 

"Oliver's in Kent too." 

Shite. 

"Your flat." 

"You can't be serious!" I blurt out. 

"Why would I lie?" he asks, perplexed. 

"You have before," I remind him, not so gently. 

"So I have… but this part is true – You gave Davies a Sleeping Draught?" 

"…Yeah…" 

"Good, he needed it. Plus we can talk without him hearing us." 

I eye him cautiously. 

"About Oliver." 

"And the permanence of that mind trick," I challenge. 

"That too," he agrees. "I need to reapply that charm. When you let me in, the wall crumbled." 

He points his wand at me… and hands it to me… Oh that's my wand. 

I snatch it from him. 

Oh, how I have missed you, dear wand. 

He raises his eyebrows. 

"The mind thing?" I prompt. 

He points **his** wand at me and mutters again. 

The pressure is there and gone just like before. 

"Will this have to be done every time I open up to you?" 

"Yes." 

"Oh." 

"Yes, oh," he mocks. 

"And Oliver?" I change to subject quickly. 

"Is in need of being rescued," Marcus nods. 

"How do you plan on doing **that**?" I ask incredulously. 

He looks at me with a lecherous grin. 

"No," I tell him sternly. I have enough problems with Oliver I don't want to add botched rescue to it. 

"Well, we're going to anyway, but not until I consult your youngest brother." 

"Ron?" 

"No, your other youngest brother," he rolls his eyes. "I swear to God, you get thicker with every sentence." 

"Become," I correct automatically. 

"What?" 

"I become thicker, I don't 'get' thicker," I explain. 

He groans in annoyance. "Stop being so obtuse… No, I forgot, that's impossible for you." 

Ouch. 

"So when will you know more about this rescue party I'm to be in?" I return the conversation back on course. 

"By tomorrow evening at the latest. So go to work and figure out what is going on in the wide world of politics." 

I pull a face. 

"And you will go with Davies," he eyes me. 

"Yes mum, with Roger." 

He takes a step closer. "Are you **mocking** me?" His eyes widen. 

"No," I take a step back. "I'm insulting my mother." 

He looks quizzically for a moment then laughs wildly. 

"You **can** relax," he whistles. "Good on you." He claps me on the back. "Now take that potion and get to bed." 

~*~ 

"Percy!" My father yelps, hopefully in surprise. 

"Hello, father," I offer a weak smile. 

Roger and I just wandered into my father's office still unsure of how to do this or, really, what to do. 

"Mr. Weasley." Roger nods politely. 

Again with the marching in without a plan. 

"How did that errand play out?" Father asks uneasily. 

"As planned," I reply, hastily adding, "Father, how would you enjoy being Minister?" 

Father draws in on himself as Roger hisses at my lack of tact. 

I couldn't work it into a conversation. 

Slytherin, I'm not. In that aspect. 

Father casts a silencing charm and anti-charm to prevent detection. 

"Sorry," I amend, the tips of my ears coloring. 

"I don't know who she – he, rather, is, but he's good for you," Father states, examining me closely. 

"Excuse me?" I sputter. 

"That's Flint for you: he worms his way in and won't let go until **he** wants to," Roger sniggers. 

"About the control of the nation," I whine. 

"Yes. That," Father mutters. "There is one problem with whomever were to take charge and his name is Malfoy." 

"He couldn't possibly hex everyone in the entire Ministry," I reason. 

"True, but that won't stop him from killing the new Minister," Roger exhales at length. 

"Then Malfoy needs to be removed from the picture," I offer. "In some way he couldn't possibly extract revenge." Yeah. I can state the obvious. 

"That is excellent in theory, but there is then the reality of how." Roger worries his upper lip… Oliver always worried his lower lip. I guess they match in some yin-yang, sixty-nine way. 

A flush creeps up the back of my neck. 

"Amos is retiring next month," Father states. "Percy can take his position and Mr. Davies, you can take Crouch's." 

I smile timidly. Since when has my father known so much about me? Wait. Since when had my father known so much about me! 

"That leaves the Minister's position," Roger frowns. 

"Father?" I turn to him hopefully. "Would you take that honour?" 

"With the pride only a Weasley can manage," he bows. 

Roger tastefully slips from the room, disrupting the charms, but that can be fixed. 

"Father…" I hesitate. "How did you know about the Magical Creature Department?" 

"I'm your father, I need to know such things." 

"How much do you know?" I ask quickly, instantly wary. 

"Calm down, Percy. Your mother and I have known – well, after you gave her that fright with the baby Welsh Green." 

"Sorry," I hang my head like an ashamed toddler. 

"That and it's in your blood," he continues. 

"Excuse me?" I blurt. 

"Your genes… Um… you have an ancient allele dating back to Fionn mac Cumhail." 

I furrow my brow. "As in the prophet who ate Fintan?" 

"The very same." 

I need to sit. 

Plopping down, I ask how it's possible and if he's sure. 

He nods and rubs my shoulder. 

"Were you ever – are you - does Charlie have the same thing?" I decide on. 

"Not as strong as you, but he does, yes." 

"So if – Is there anyone else in the family, not necessarily immediate?" 

He hesitates. " No one alive today." 

What does that mean?" 

"How did they die?" I ask suddenly. Maybe I should think things over before I blurt it out. 

"The same way as Fintan," he responds gravely. 

A silence settles uncomfortably between us. 

"Do be careful," he says at length. 

"I try but with – " 

"Don't make excuses," Father tells me firmly. "Take care of yourself and don't rely on others to save you, do so yourself." He pauses and a puzzled expression clouds over his face. "That was your mother speaking… But do take care." 

He embraces me. 

"I will, Minister, and you take care of yourself." 

He smiles. "Don't worry, descendant of Fionn mac Cumhail … I believe you have a speech to give the nation regarding their new Minister. We also need to discuss protection charms and not just for my life." 

And there goes the Full-Body Blush. 

~*~*~ 

TBC! 

Thank you to Mireille and Rogue for info on Roger's quidditch position. 

Fintan and Fionn mac Cumhail (too many ways of spelling that -_-') are from Celtic Myth. Fintan was the Salmon of Knowledge because he had eaten the hazelnuts of the gods and received all knowledge. He was also a shape shifter, surviving Noah's flood by swimming and soaring as a fish and hawk respectively (mostly because fish can't soar). For many years Finegas had tried to capture the Fintan, to eat him and gain his wisdom. Finegas finally managed to capture Fintan in the pool of Linn Fèic, and gave it to Fionn to cook for him. Under the threat of death Fionn was not allowed to eat the salmon, however while he was roasting it he accidentally burnt his thumb, automatically sucked on it to ease the pain, and gained all the knowledge that he had been seeking in the first place.

That's the short version of the story.

Thank you to all my lovely reviewers! 

SparkySparkles: Sorry for the out of order chapters. FF.net has been giving me grief, but it's all sorted out now. As for the first snog… that's definitely in the next chapter. 

Shinigami: I've fixed the out of order chapters, so that shouldn't be a problem any more. As for Daine and Alanna, it's a crossover between Harry Potter and Tamora Pierce. They are not, however, relatives of the Weasleys. Percy was modeled after Daine, but his source of power is different, but not by much. Daine's father was Cernunnos, the stag lord, ruler of the underworld and animals (in Celtic lore), where as Percy is distant kin of Fionn. 

CatC10: I **am** very happy! And I'm writing. 

Aurora-Shine: Wow. I had no idea I affected people like that. Thank you. 

Obijan: Percy and Marcus are finally gonna get together! Yeah! First kiss is in the next chapter. That should make things a lot more interesting. ^_~ 

lil'kittie: *huggles* That's the last of the boring stuff. Well, there is one more bit towards the end, but in the next chapter is Oliver's rescue, and it's sure to be action packed. Not to mention Percy's first kiss! ^-^ And I usually hate the dull stuff. I put all of the blame on Percy. He just wants to be dull, but can't. Poor kid. I'm sure that he blames Marcus, too. Mmmm… Half naked Oliver… 

Lulu-Chan: The reason the thoughts are all jumbled is because Percy's thoughts **are** all jumbled. The poor dear. Well, the main reason nothing has happened is because Percy was in deep denial, that and he's prude. Another reason is that once the sexual tension is resolved, where would the story go? Don't worry about Percy's thoughts about Olly, Flint already knows. ^^ And no, Ron's secret Slytherin source (try saying **that** one) is not Draco, believe it or not… although I am rather fond of that 'ship…Ron lets the name slip in the next chapter. Hopefully Oliver's relationship with Roger is a tad clearer now… As for the crazy chapter order, I blame FF.net; it's been screwing around with my chapter order no matter how many times I try to fix it. *sigh* 

Kia: How's this for quick? 


	13. Chapter XIII

All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. And all rights and other stuff to The Lioness Quartet and Wild Magic are copyrighted trademarks and property of Tamora Pierce and Random House. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* And the title was borrowed from a Savage Garden song, The Animal Song, so that belongs to them and the same disc applies. 

**Pairings**: Percy/Marcus, finally!  
**Contents**: Angst, Slash, POV  
**Spoilers**: Yup. Books 2 and up.  
**Summary**: Percy may be a freak, but that's not always a bad thing. That, I think, is the worse summary I've ever come up with.  
**Status**: Incomplete… only one more chapter. *sniffle*  
**A/N**: First kiss. Finally. Sorry for the shortness. And Happy Everything! Like Christmas and New Year and Hanukah even though that was a very, very long time ago. 

_*~* Indicates time change _

~*~ Indicates scene change 

_**Indicates the voices in Percy's head… rather his recalling past dialogue**_

Superstars and Cannonballs

Instead of Charlie, Ron is waiting at Hogwart's gate as we return. He's as tall as me now. He and Marcus converse rapidly, but I'm, too far gone to even want to try to figure out what they're saying. The void inside me has grown, but I've been fighting it with Marcus' help. I've given up my rule of the country, had an embarrassing chat with my father, spoken to the Muggle Minister for a hopeful alliance, and I have a nasty paper cut… But other than the impending doom and impending… whatever is going on between me and Marcus, life is great.

"Davies, go with Weasley," Marcus says tersely. "Percy, come with me." 

"Roger," Ron nods. 

"What?" Roger blinks. 

Ouch, that was rotten. 

"No!" Ron protests. "I meant – Never mind." He leads Roger away, muttering and shaking his head. Roger takes off after him. 

"We've got a plan – " 

"Have, not got," I correct. 

"We have a plan," Marcus repeats, exasperated, "with one missing factor." He leads me into the castle. "You are that factor." Well, I saw **that** coming. "You are the only one able to get in, next to undetected, and you know the layout of your flat." I should hope so. 

"I still don't – " 

"You owe it to Oliver… and you can transform." 

"So that's what this is about," I grumble as we come to a stop outside of Professor Dumbledore's office. 

"Obviously," he states as if it really were. 

The gargoyle opens up. 

Oh, that was the password. 

"Look, Percy, you're in this until the end no matter what, so make the most of it," he glares at me. 

"That was certainly optimistic of you," I mutter under my breath, not to mention uncharacteristic. 

"Flint, my dear brother, welcome to the end of the world," Charlie grins maniacally. All's normal here. 

"Mr. Weasley, it is not the end of the world, so please refrain yourself from calling it such and frightening your brother," Professor Dumbledore reprimands lightly, winking at me. Even after all these years I still don't trust him, no one can be that jovial all of the time. 

"But those bug eyes are worth it," he complains. 

I narrow my gaze. 

"Your eyes did the split-pupil thing again," Marcus whispers into my ear. 

All right, everyone can stop playing mind games on Percy now. 

"Right. Down to business," Professor Dumbledore clasps his hands together. 

"Please," Snape drawls. I hadn't even noticed he was there. Oh, Harry's here too, as well as Hermione. 

"Mr. Weasley, this will test the extent of your power and the power of the Jewel." Professor Dumbledore motions to the empty chair. 

I heavily take a seat. 

"Just wing it," Ron grunts, returning. 

Eyebrows rise. 

"That's – that's all I have," he shrugs, coloring. "Crabbe couldn't tell me anything that could be used against them." 

"You've – you – just – " I sputter. 

Charlie bites his lip as Snape glares. 

Professor Dumbledore clasps his hands together again. "Mr. Flint, Mr. Weasley, proceed with care. There will be a port key to take you to Downe. You should emerge in a wood behind the establishment." 

Well. Then. Organization. 

"I suppose Percy should transfigure for this," Marcus says offhandedly. 

"Transfigure?" Ron asks, boggled. "Nobody said anything about any transfiguration." 

Snape glares, Charlie picks at the lint on his sleeve, Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkle, Harry looks away, and Marcus looks like he's about to kill Ron. 

"He … didn't know? I distinctly remember telling him!" 

I glare at Marcus. 

"Is anyone going to inform me?" Ron demands hotly. 

No one is going to explain… 

I look to everyone – they are all are looking at me expectantly. 

They want me to explain. 

"I'm a Wild Mage," I state crossly. "You know that." 

"Like I knew what a Wild Mage does!" he counters bitingly. "Yes Flint – Ok then, I suggest that you transfigure." 

I snap to Marcus who is all innocence. 

I don't buy that. 

"We'll take the port key tomorrow," Flint announces, shoving me from the office. 

"Marcus, wha- " 

He tugs me back to our rooms, slamming the door. 

"Tomorrow we are going to be able to communicate with each other mentally. Without destroying that wall again." 

"You had to drag me all the way from that meeting – " 

"Focus on what **you **are doing, leave the rest to others." He hisses, encroaching on my personal space. 

I take a step back. 

"We need that link," Marcus says threateningly. 

"How do – " I take another step back, running into the door. It opens inward, so I couldn't spill myself out into the hallway. 

"DNA," he explains. "We need to exchange blood." All of those blood born diseases… 

"Meaning?" I reply nervously, searching for the door handle frantically. 

"And because I don't feel the need to slit my wrist…" He seizes the front of my robes. An overwhelming sense of déjà vu floods my system. 

He pushes me flat against the door with a thud, knocking the air from my lungs, and bites my lower lip until blood trickles down my chin. I think it's blood… it might me saliva. 

"Ouch!" I yelp, licking it from my face. Fresh blood. 

I growl deep in my throat, wanting more. 

"Do it," Marcus urges. As if I need encouragement. 

I want that blood. 

I chomp down hard on his lip, tearing it open, and then lap up the blood. 

He chortles and the sound reverberates, heading straight for my groin. His hands grasp my shoulders and a knee parts my legs, pressing his thigh against my crotch. 

Releasing the doorknob, I wrap my arms around his waist, still lapping up the blood. 

He sucks my tongue into his mouth and does indescribably wonderful things with his own tongue. 

I dig my fingers into his back, groaning into his mouth. He is now supporting me, with the help of the door. 

My head is spinning. 

Oh. Right. I need oxygen. 

I withdraw my tongue hastily, banging my head against the door, breath labored. 

"You should have asked," I pant. 

"Would you have preferred mucus?" he scoffs, breath as short as mine. 

Yuck. I shake my head. "At least this was purely scientific." 

"Not purely," he smirks lopsidedly. 

I moan in irritation, pushing him off me. Which is really not a wise idea as he was what was holding **me** up. 

Thank Merlin for the door so I don't collapse into a puddle of goo on the floor. Instead I **slide **into a puddle of goo on the floor. 

"Bastard," I breathe. 

"But you love me anyway," he smiles cockily, offering me a hand up. 

I thin my bruised lips, accepting the hand. "Yeah," I whisper. Louder I say, "Did the link work?" 

"Think of something." 

"The only thing I can think of is how my legs won't hold my weight," I reply, still dazed slightly, tripping on my own feet – conveniently into Marcus. 

He looks at me in disbelief. "That could not have been your first snog. You're twenty for Christ's sake." 

"Did the link work?" I repeat. Actually it's not: Penny was. 

"Yeah. The link worked." 

I'm still in his arms… 

"So we'll be able to communicate telepathically." He nods. "For how long?" 

"As long as my blood is in your system." He tightens his hold on me. 

Dreaming is going to be interesting tonight. 

"Bastard." 

~*~*~*~ 

TBC 

Thank you to my charming reviewers. 

Kia: Yeah! A fan! You don't have feathers, do you? Sorry, Olly moment. 

Lulu-chan: I have to end the war, eh? Hmmm….. Don't worry about Roger, Oliver, and Cedric, that will be explained in the last chapter. Happy Christmas and New Year to you too. ^^ I haven't seen the Two Towers yet… (I have some issues with time management.) However, I prefer Aragorn to Legolas. Legolas is too bish for my tastes. 

Mar: Wow, you read this in one sitting? Wow. I hope this chapter is as entertaining as the others. 

Switch: I think that is as much Marcus/Percy action as ff.net will allow… I wonder if that means I should boost the rating to R… Hope that satisfied you. If not, I'm writing a lemony dream sequence about their combined dreams and will provide a link. 

YamatoLuv7: Thank you and here's more! ^^ 

Akemi: Now, eh? Not then? Pooh. Well, there is your kiss and what a kiss it was, poor Percy's mind overloaded. 

ColdDaye: The rest? Hmm… I think I can do that. As for the thing in Nepal taking Marcus' form, in the Lioness books, Alanna wants to fight something physical instead of the elements. So I guess it made sense in my mind that Percy would be fighting Marcus mentally. Erm… I hope that made sense. 


	14. Chapter XIV

All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. And all rights and other stuff to The Lioness Quartet and Wild Magic are copyrighted trademarks and property of Tamora Pierce and Random House. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* And the title was borrowed from a Savage Garden song, The Animal Song, so that belongs to them and the same disc applies. 

**Pairings**: Percy/Marcus  
**Contents**: Angst, Slash, POV  
**Spoilers**: Yup. Books 2 and up.  
**Summary**: Percy is a Wild Mage and therefore the only person on the Side-O-Light to wield the Dominion Jewel.  
**Status**: COMPLETE *sniffle* It only took me a year…  
**A/N**: Now that I've finally finished, I'm going to go back and rewrite some things so that the story is consistent, so if you see an update, it probably doesn't mean there's a new chapter. Sorry. 

_*~* Indicates time change _

~*~ Indicates scene change 

Indicates the voices in Percy's head… rather his recalling past dialogue

Superstars and Cannonballs

"Percy! Flint!" Someone is shouting and banging on the door. 

The arm around my chest tightens and – WHAT?! That was just a dream! There is no way – That's right, last night I fell asleep with Marcus spooned against me… 

"Wake up!" The door crashes open. 

"I'm awake," I mutter, not entirely lying. 

I glare as Charlie and Ron burst into the room. Doesn't anyone in my family knock anymore? 

"It's about bloody time, you two!" Charlie exclaims as Ron's mouth opens and closes in a particular way and his ears redden. "Now get out of bed!" 

Marcus pushes me out of bed, landing me on the floor. 

Prat. 

At least I'm clothed – oh… That means it really was a dream… I don't know if I should be disappointed or not. 

"Dumbledore has a portkey in his office and it needs to be used within the hour," Charlie says impatiently. 

Ron's mouth opts for open, and I think a beetle flew in. 

"We'll be there Weasley, give us a moment," Marcus climbs out of my bed elegantly. 

Prat. 

Charlie puts a finger under Ron's chin, closing his mouth effectively. "Let's give them their moment," he repeats Marcus, shoving Ron from the room. 

"Marcus, what just happened?" I pick myself up from the floor. 

"Your brothers just walked in on us in bed, spooned against each other," he answers simply. 

"Oh, that's what I thought… Wait! What?!" 

"Don't panic," he sneers. "It's not worth it. Charlie knew anyway." 

That makes it all better then. 

"Don't be sour," he coos. 

Right, the mind thing. 

_Yes, the mind thing,_ he repeats, reaching for me. 

I recoil. 

"Don't be that way," he scoffs. 

"Whoa! What way?" I snap. 

_Regretful. _"Stubborn." 

I don't regret anything – 

"Shite." 

~*~ 

No matter how many times I travel by portkey I will never become accustomed to it. I much prefer Apparation; it doesn't always land me on my bum. 

And Marcus lands gracefully on his feet. 

We are indeed in a wood, hopefully a wood in Kent. 

Marcus offers me a hand up. I refuse, pulling myself up. 

A funny feeling hits me: like I'm melting into the earth. 

After a quick string of curses from Marcus, he pulls me back into myself. 

"Fuck, you feel the dementors double than anyone else." He offers me… chocolate? "Take this." 

Where did he find chocolate? 

"Your brother. Always prepared, he is." 

"I didn't feel the despair," I state, not sure why. 

"I could tell," he muses, tapping his forehead. "It's the Jewel's response. Don't worry, you'll be fine with me." He flashes me a toothy grin. 

I can't hear his thoughts. The blood is still in my system… I think. 

_As much as I would **love** to refresh the blood, there is no need to panic; I just am able to block my thoughts,_ Marcus replies smugly. "You know where we're going?" 

"If we're at Downe, yeah," I press my lips together. "It's about a block away." 

I haven't been home in over a year. 

Wow. Leave the house unattended and vermin invade. Actually, dementors are more parasitic… 

Oh! I have to transfigure… into what, though? 

"We'll figure that out when the time comes or you panic and transform into some – Dementor!" 

"Where?" 

"No, you." 

"Me?" I'm a dementor? 

"Transfiguration, you twat!" 

Brilliant! 

Did I just – 

"Yes." 

Frustration. 

"Just like your last year, it shouldn't be too difficult…" Masquerading as a dementor? 

"That was **you**! What a serious lack of judgment, not to mention cheating and – " 

"One never refuses a Malfoy," he says ominously. 

"So you blame him for you dressing up in a dementor robe and parading around the pitch – " 

"If I hadn't agreed to it, I would have been forced in some highly unpleasant manner, and once the embarrassing ordeal was over, I would have been tortured to death." 

"Cheerful," I say wryly. 

"Yes. Now transfigure," he orders. 

"And what about my clothing!" I shout on impulse. 

My ears burn. 

"We'll hide it here." He pauses, deep in thought and not letting me listen to any of it. "Keep your wand under you dementor robe and if you are caught or in some other trouble Apparate to Cork, then London, then back to Hogemeade." 

"I understand." 

He conjures a dark dementor's robe from nothing and throws it at me. 

"Go on now, transfigure." 

Dementor. 

Dark. 

Depression. 

Failure. 

Nothing. 

Myself. 

"Fantastic!" he enthuses, "but that last one was uncalled for." 

Did it work? 

"Very well, actually… Except your eyes are glowing purple… I never knew what dementors looked like under their robes…" His eyes dip from mine down. 

I flush, hurriedly covering myself properly with the robe. 

"You're going to need to keep your eyes closed or at least squinted," he muses. 

Great. 

I pile my clothing with a claw, glasses on top. Marcus hides them magically. 

We stare at each other for some time, not saying or thinking anything, and then we head off home. My flat, rather. 

*~* 

_"I think I've finally come to an understanding with the twins!" he boasted cheerily. _

_"What brought this on?" She cocked an incredulous eyebrow. _

_"Well, now that I'm out of the house, I really don't come in contact with them and…" He let his sentence hang. _

_"That's your understanding?" Her expression was twisted in a quizzical manner. _

_"No, no!" He said quickly. "It's just that I finally understand them… and that I can't change them." _

_He hung his head with the confession. He had tried for years to change those beasts into humans and he had never succeeded. They weren't so bad anyway. _

*~* 

"You! There!" A Deatheater points directly at me, and I have to remind myself that I'm a dementor. 

I shuffle to him. 

"Why are you not with the rest of them?" He snarls and kicks at me. He should be crippled with despair right now. Why is he not passing out? 

He shoves me into my flat. 

There are a handful of Deatheaters and demetors just mulling about. 

"This one will Kiss the prisoner," the Deatheater from outside announces. 

"Don't be so hasty," another contradicts, "the Minister will come for him." 

"There is a new Minister," a third counters. "Just yesterday the elder Weasley made a speech as new Minister. 

"Then, like I said, the prisoner should be Kissed," the first insists. 

They prod me into my bathroom, through the wards around the door. 

Oliver is there, in bad shape, wheezing with every breath, but still whole… physically. 

Um… How would a dementor react to someone so hopeless? 

Kiss him. 

Shite. 

Oliver looks up at me in fear. 

Marcus, I need you to explain something to Oliver: Tell him that I'm me, not a dementor. Tell him to feign everything. 

_Wait… What?!_ His mind explodes. Not literally: he's brassed off. _You're not going to Kiss him!_

If you can think of anything better, go ahead. If not, I do it. 

_All right, Percy._

Oh, and find out where his wand is. 

_Don't rush genius! _

Focusing on my body, I return to my normal self, approaching him slowly. Thank Merlin, the robes still cover my body. 

He cowers away from me. He's the wounded now. 

_He doesn't buy it,_ Marcus spits. _Thinks I'm a delusion. _

Shite. 

I'm going to go through with this anyway. 

I seize Oliver by the front of his robes and pull him to his feet, making sure my hand stays beneath my dementor robe. 

I bring his face to mine, pressing my mouth to his ear. "You should have listened to Marcus." 

His eyes widen in surprise, which I hope the watching Deatheaters take as fear. 

I pull his face underneath the robe, hiding his face and mine. 

I don't know what to do after this! 

Our mouths meet. There is nothing special, and I can feel him smiling. 

He's going to become hysterical. 

Marcus! What should I do?! 

I'm panicking; I need to calm down. 

Percy, convince the other dementors to create a diversion. Anything to take the attention off you. Then Apparate to where I told you, maybe even add a few more stops. Take him with you –

I was planning on leaving him. 

_Now is **not** the time for sarcastic quips,_ he barks, _get him medical help as soon as you can, he's damaged internally, externally, and mentally. I'll meet you at Hogsmeade. _

If he were talking aloud I would have sworn that he didn't take a single breath. 

_I need your help!_ I broadcast to the dementors. 

The dementors hiss back, _you stole our meal, Iriseyes. _

_Why have you not gone for the others?_ I try. 

_Hurry **up**! _The urgency in Marcus' voice hurts._ Use the Jewel! _

I'm trying! 

Thems have protection.

_What type? If I take care of the protection, you can feast on them. _

_We know not. _

Marcus! What protection do the Deatheaters have, and how can it be removed? 

Stop being snappish! Hmm… Amulets. Opals. Sapphire too. Amber.

Call the amulets to you. 

_WHAT?! _

Then hide them in – or destroy them. Yes, destroy them. 

Fine.

My mouth hurts and – oh, I'm still kissing Oliver. Yeah, casually. I'll keep him here until the Deatheaters are gone.

Done.

_There is no longer protection,_ I announce._ Feast upon those who have kept you hungry. Then leave this place! _

Screams erupt from my bedroom, and the Deatheaters watching take off to investigate. 

I release Oliver's mouth and a hysterical laugh burbles from his mouth. 

We're leaving now. Don't forget my clothing! 

_Twit! _

I grab onto Oliver and Apparate, landing us in a back alley in Cork.

Half carrying him, we weave through the crowed streets, disappearing behind a church, then Apparate to Bath, repeating the same task. Next is Oxford, followed by Blackpool, then Bath again. 

Unfortunately, by the time we reach Bath for the second time, Oliver is too exhausted to continue, and we have no money for board at any tavern. 

I sit us down on the steps of a Muggle convent. 

"Ask inside," Oliver gasps. His breath is bubbly. 

"If you come with me, we'll be able to stay for sure." 

He looks at me with a pitiful expression. I can't even begin to imagine the torture he endured. 

"I'll take care you," I say softly. 

~*~ 

The Muggle priest is letting us stay, especially after he saw Oliver's condition. He even sent a nun to help us, but I drove her off; magic can handle this better than Muggle techniques mostly because most of the damage is internal. 

All of Oliver's internal organs are patched up with my limited knowledge of medical magics and he is no longer bleeding. His external bruises will heal on their own, but his mental damage I don't know what to do about. It's a result of the Cruciatus Curse, I'm sure. I have yet to ask him anything except for medical reasons.

He's now resting; I won't let him sleep. 

Well, we made it. At least Oliver and I have. 

What **did** happen to Marcus? 

I reach out with my mind. _Marcus? _

_Where are you, Percy?! _His mental voice shouts back. He's worried. How … well, with anyone else it might be sweet, but with Marcus it's just creepy. 

_Does that mean the link wore off? _

_No, you twat, I just thought it was polite to ask instead of digging through your mind,_ he snarls sardonically. 

Oh. Both Oliver and I are in Bath; he's too weak to make it back to Hogwarts. Tell Roger we'll return by tomorrow. And make sure you have my glasses.

I cut the transmission. I'm sure Marcus won't be too happy, by right now all that matters is Oliver.

~*~ 

I kept vigil the entire night and nothing happened; Oliver only stirred when I prodded him with my wand so he wouldn't sleep. 

We need to leave though. Who knows how close they are to finding us. 

_Marcus_.

Silence.

_Marcus_.

Nothing.

_Marcus! _

A short view of, I assume, a dream: skin.

_MARCUS! _

Annoyance.

_Wake up now! _

_There is no reason for **you** to be snappish,_ he finally responds, lazily too, or maybe tiredly. _Tired, Percy, not lazy… and you interrupted a **very** nice dream – Where are you? When are you returning? _

_That's why I contacted you. _

_Don't use that dry tone with me. _

_We'll both be at Hogs- _

"Yes, sir, two men, one in bad shape," a nun recollects helpfully.

I peer out of the window down into the courtyard. A group of fuzzy, black Deatheaters. Wouldn't my glasses come in handy right now? 

Bugger, Marcus, the Deatheaters are here. Ol's not in any shape to pull the same stunt we did yesterday.

How did they manage to track us so quickly?

_I can't do anything, Percy. Nothing. _He stretches the last word. And he does not seem happy. 

_What?! Why not – _No – shite. I need to do something now. No magic. Human magic. 

The Jewel. 

I turn to Oliver: he's still out of it. 

Turning back to the window – There are trees in the courtyard. If I could just ask the trees to kill them, maybe engulf them in wood… 

But I've only dealt with animals. 

No time for panicking. 

Deep breath. In. Out. 

Good. 

Shite, they've killed the nun. 

I reach out to the trees, the same way I've done with animal. Except the trees don't have minds, so I have to create one. 

Without quite knowing what I'm doing, I reach out and grab and engulf the Deatheaters, trapping and crushing them. There were four, not that I could see them. 

There is a scream and then nothing. 

I blink blearily down at the courtyard: there aren't any Deatheaters there. 

I snatch up Oliver and my wand and Apparate down to the courtyard to the dead nun and killer trees. 

The nun is quite dead and the bark patterns on the tree resemble Deatheater masks. 

I did it! 

_Marcus. Be down at Hogsmeade. Now! _

_Percy! I'm on the toilet! _he complains. 

I feel myself flush.

Then send Charlie and make sure Madam Pomfrey's with him. On the platform.

_I'm on it. _

I gather Oliver into my arms and Apparate to Edinburgh then Hogsmeade where I find Charlie nervously hopping from foot to foot on the platform.

"Percy!" he gasps, hurrying over to help me with Oliver. Funny how Oliver's larger than Charlie, but he can carry him with ease. 

"Where's Madam Pomfrey?" I breathe. 

Charlie jerks his head, indicating that she is behind him. Just as he does so, she comes racing towards us and without so much as a 'good morning' is examining Oliver. This woman is brilliant. 

I look away from the scene, letting Madam Pomfrey do her job. Marcus is racing down from the castle. Well, I can't exactly tell, but someone with Marcus' build and dark features is running down from the castle. 

He slows down to a walk as soon as he enters the town. Yup, it's Marcus. 

"Do you have my glasses?" I prompt. 

"What? No hello?" he scoffs. "I put my life on the line for you and all you care about are your glasses?" 

He presents me with them. 

I could kiss him – 

Oh. Dear. 

"Thank you," I murmur. 

"You're welcome," he replies quietly. The words sound foreign on his tongue. 

We just stand there facing each other, one waiting for the other to say something. 

I desperately want to yell at him for leaving Oliver in such danger, but I really don't want to break whatever is happening between us. 

And Charlie clasps me on the shoulder. 

"Let's get you settled," he says gently. 

I turn from Marcus to Charlie. Madam Pomfrey and Oliver are gone. 

I hum. "I need to find Roger first." 

"Of course." Marcus thins his lips. 

~*~ 

"He'll be fine." I find my lips twisting into a contrite smile. 

"Thank you," Roger whispers. He looks up at me, eyes shining. 

I nod and leave before his tears fall. 

Marcus is waiting for me outside the door. 

"Why wouldn't you help me?" I demand. 

All he can do is smirk. "Who slammed the door in whose face now?" 

"I don't like you," I tell him plainly. 

"That's nothing new," he sneers. 

"Why wouldn't you help me?" I repeat, a hard edge to my voice. 

"I couldn't," he states. 

Yeah, I believe that. "Marcus," I growl. 

"I truly couldn't. Deatheaters may be dumb, but they're not stupid." 

I eye him incredulously. 

We start walking away from the infirmary to… wherever he is headed. Just away. 

"At first they thought the dementors had just mutinied. But they had their charms, so that could not have happened, especially when leaving the victim to escape. They figured that it was the work of a psychic because of the nature of the charm. So they built up wards to keep the same mistake from happening again. There was nothing I could do." 

I sigh. He's being smooth and sure, so it could be the truth or a lie. Merlin, I hate him. 

"Do you know how they tracked us so quickly?" I ask, still curious. 

"I honestly have no idea," he holds up his hands as if to prove his innocence. 

I snort at his choice of words: 'honestly.' 

Poor Oliver, dragged into this mess. Roger too. I even feel sorry for Ron and Charlie – 

"How did the Deatheaters know about Oliver?" 

"That I couldn't tell you." 

I narrow my gaze at him. "How did Oliver and Roger come together in the first place? Especially when Ol was with Cedric." I already know part of the answer, but I want him to admit it. 

"You want me to give something away, it won't work." 

"Mr. Flint." Snape skulks up behind us. "What have I told you about Muggle sayings?" 

What is with Snape and Muggle sayings? 

Like I would know what he was referring to. 

"Mr. Flint, once you have finished with your business, please join me in my office." 

Marcus nods, and Snape leaves. 

"Did you have anything to do with Oliver and Roger?" I order once Snape's footsteps fade. 

Marcus looks me straight in the eyes. "Yes." 

Neither one of us will look away, playing a game of alpha-beta. The problem is I'm beta, he's alpha, but I want to be alpha. 

He admitted it though, that's a step. 

"Percy?" 

"Hmm?" I hum. 

"I'm not going to admit anything else, you realize." 

I moan in frustration. "I know." 

"Dumbledore wants to see you, and I need to find Severus." He turns to leave, breaking the eye contact, turns back, snogs me soundly, and leaves me shell-shocked. 

~*~ 

"So nice to see you, Mr. Weasley," Professor Dumbledore smiles. There is no twinkle. He motions to a chair. 

"Yeah, I'm alive." 

"The jewel has made sure of that," he assures me. "Even if you don't know enough about wielding it, it knows how it wants to be handled." 

I nod because I can't think of anything to say. 

"That will become necessary in the future," he continues. 

"Future?" I stare at him with wide eyes. 

"There is a war being fought, Mr. Weasley," he explains dryly. 

"Yes, sir." Well, I'm in this until the end no matter what. 

"At least you recognize your fate," he smiles benevolently. "It took Mr. Flint three years to accept that he was different, other than being Muggle born." 

And I just kinda stare at him. 

"You can harass him about that little fact," he winks at me. 

A faint smile threatens to form on my lips and I let it. 

~*~ 

Oliver is awake when I return to check on both him and Roger. 

"He's suffering short-term memory loss," Roger explains quietly. "But he's alive. Thank you." 

"It was nothing," I respond wryly. 

"Since you put it that way…" he tries to smile. 

"Are you in the mood for answering questions?" I glance at Oliver, but address Roger. 

"We're going to have to answer them sometime," Roger sighs. "Can't spend forever avoiding them." 

Oliver just looks at us pitifully. 

It's like attacking a wounded unicorn. 

"How long have you been friends with Marcus?" 

Roger blinks in surprise, as if he had expected me to ask him his deepest, darkest secrets… which I do plan on doing. 

"Since I found out about his little talent," Roger explains, as if he has a million times. "My fifth year." 

Actually, now that he says it, I do remember that. 

"So you've maintained your friendship?" 

He nods. 

"How?" 

"What do you mean?" he frowns. "We just kept in touch." 

Oh. 

I glance at Oliver, and he has a sour look on his face. 

"But Oliver can't stand Marcus," I remind him. As if he needs to be reminded. 

"Right…" Roger responds at length. 

I look back to Oliver. 

He glares back. 

"Flint made sure that Oliver behaved himself," Roger admits in a whisper. 

"Uh-huh," I comment intelligently. 

Oliver looks outraged, like he's going to strangle someone. 

"And what about Cedric?" I ask delicately. 

"What about him?" Oliver snaps. 

Roger puts his hand on his chest to calm him. Roger looks deep into Oliver's eyes as if searching for permission. 

Roger sighs and looks away, hand still on Oliver. 

"Cedric had a girlfriend after I graduated," Oliver spits bitterly. "What we were… we just had a fling. It was nothing. I was upset, yes, about his girlfriend and his death." 

Roger looks from me to him and… How much of that is truth and how much is Marcus? 

"Then in our last year, Roger found me alone after a quidditch match: Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor, the… the one we lost. That's when things started to happen." 

Again, how much is real? How much is Marcus? 

Roger's face won't give anything away. 

"I didn't give up Cedric, though…" Oliver blushes in shame. From what I remember, Cedric was very serious about Oliver – 

"Did Cedric know?" 

"About Roger? No." 

"Thank you," I murmur, feeling really horrible for bringing it up while Oliver is still unwell. 

I leave, but as I step into the hallway, Roger joins me. 

"It was Flint, you know," he sighs. 

"I figured," I grunt, but Roger's hurt about putting Oliver and Cedric through so much. 

"Good luck," he tries to smile up at me. 

"You too. I'll see you at work, possibly, if I don't see you before." 

He nods. 

"Percy!" 

I look to the shout and see nothing, turn back and Roger is gone. 

"Percy! Percy! PERCY!" 

Charlie's orange hair pops out of the darkness of the corridor as he races toward me. 

"They've recovered!" He rushes me, tackling me in a crushing hug. 

"Who? Slow down and let me breathe,' I gasp out. 

"Come! Come!" Charlie says excitedly as he drags me down the hallway. 

And I find myself in front of a Hebridean Black. The same one as earlier… and she remembers me, bumping me with her muzzle. 

"He's taken," a gruff – Marcus says. He's behind the dragon, near Bill and the twins… and scowling deeply. 

"He's lying," I whisper into an ear hole. 

No. He is you be smell.

He is? What? I smell of him?… Oh.

I frown, then try to think of other things like… Bill and the twins. 

"How are they?" I ask. 

"Stable, but they'll improve," Charlie smiles brightly. 

"How did they… well, improve?" 

"Snape and Flint developed a potion that would be able to regrow their magic and their minds. It's quite interesting, what with reversing apoptosis and all, without the risk of tumors like mitosis would cause eventually." 

So Flint is brilliant, then. 

I shouldn't be so surprised, working with him all these years. 

I nod. 

Everything's going to work out. 

I smile. 

*~* 

_"Alanna, I don't understand how people change all the time," he shook his head. _

_"People don't change," she explained. "You do, and people you've known for the longest time can still surprise you."_

*~* 

I'm almost asleep when someone knocks on my door.

Professor Dumbledore had given me my own room so I couldn't rely on Roger or Marcus to answer it. 

So I just ignore it and the knocking continues. 

"Percy! Open up!" It's Marcus. Hey – When did he start calling me by me given name? 

"About a year ago!" He shouts back. When did we replace the link – He kissed me in the hallway. 

I roll out of bed and open the door. 

We just stand there staring at each other. 

Finally, I stand aside, allowing him to enter. 

~*~*~*~ 

Fin! 

Thank you to every one who responded! 

Kia: Here's the update… the last one too. *sniffle* 

Ichigatsu: Hot, huh? Maybe I should raise the rating… 

Lulu-Chan: Nope, I haven't forgotten about this fic. Sorry for the lack of snogging in this chapter. I hope that the Roger/Oliver/Cedric deal makes more sense now. I have plans to see Two Towers tonight. ^^ 

Mar: Still waiting for that continuation? 

Akemi: Yup, there was a kiss. I'm glad that you enjoyed the fact it wasn't mushy. I don't like mushy things. 

GayRon: Thank you! 

Ladybug: What'd you wanna go to class for? I'm glad you enjoyed this. ^-^ 

Green Eyes: Yes, the slashy goodness; what else in life is worth that? 

MidnightLoner: No, Percy's not going to die… at least in this fic (he's still alive and it's over). And if Rowling decides to kill him off in book five, I'll – I don't know what I'll do, but it won't be pleasant. 

Bad-ass-Cinderella: I've never heard of that one before (killing off Fudge), hmm… actually that does seem like a good idea, the worthless bastard. 

Demeter: There was the Percy/Oliver kiss, but I don't think that's how you imagined it… 


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